Forced Evolution
by x3r0xer
Summary: College is never easy, but when you take a class field trip and get exposed to a deadly toxin that changes your entire genetic structure, things are about to get a lot tougher.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Think X-Men meets Smallville meets Heroes… meets, like, half of Marvel comics. Classic comic-book, serial style.

College is never easy, but when you take a class fieldtrip and get exposed to a deadly toxin that changes your entire genetic structure, things are about to get a lot tougher.

Warnings: AU, Angst, romance, humor, language, violence, character death, original characters, drug use – and abuse.

Pairings: Again, classic serial style, things are going to change up A LOT. Het, Yaoi, Yuri. It's all here. However, things will work in a general direction: I've got the ultimate pairings in mind already (including a threesome), but we'll have a lot of detours before we get there.

* * *

1.0: Prologue

His skin was on fire. Blood pounded in his eyes and he could feel electricity pouring off of his body in waves. It was torture just to breathe. Even the thought of moving had him wanting to vomit, but he forced himself to stand. Forced himself to walk over to the mirror.

The reflection was shocking. His skin was mottled red and purple – it looked as though he had been beaten to within an inch of his life. He eyes were so bloodshot that they looked as though they were filled with blood. And his hair was standing on end.

He forced himself to look away from the monster in the mirror and looked again at the dead body sprawled on the floor in front of him. Body was a generous term – it had been so badly mangled that it more closely resembled a butcher's leftovers than human remains. The face had been completely ripped off the skull, and he looked around until he found it – thrown against the wall and dripping a bloody line to the floor. One leg had been forcibly broken and was at a near ninety degree angle to the torso, while the torso itself was a hollow cavity of blood. The organs had all been scattered in a wide radius.

He looked down at his hands, at his clothes. There wasn't a spot of blood on him, not a wrinkle in his shirt. He grinned. And then he started to laugh.

At last. He had been successful. This formula had worked.

He continued to laugh, even as he sat down in front of the laptop and begun to type up his lab notes. Romafeller would be dying to hear about this.

It wasn't until the smell started to annoy him that he looked back at the body. He made a mental note to set up plastic next time: it looked like the blood had really stained the carpet.

Sighing, he closed the laptop and pulled out his cellphone to call the cleaning service. They certainly had their work cut out for them this time.

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

College is never easy, but when you take a class fieldtrip and get exposed to a deadly toxin that changes your entire genetic structure, things are about to get a lot tougher.

Warnings: AU, Angst, romance, humor, language, violence, character death, original characters, drug use – and abuse.

Pairings: Again, classic serial style, things are going to change up A LOT. Het, Yaoi, Yuri. It's all here. However, things will work in a general direction: I've got the ultimate pairings in mind already (including a threesome), but we'll have a lot of detours before we get there.

As a side note: reviews are, seriously, really appreciated. Tell me I suck, I can take it, I promise.

* * *

1.1: One Week Later

Heero Yuy scowled at the empty classroom and looked at his watch again. The class was scheduled to start in five minutes – and the fact that the professor, and the other students, had yet to 

make an appearance irritated him. Already this morning his other class, Globalization and the Market, had been a disappointment. The syllabus, the professor, and the other students all left much to be desired. It looked like the class would be less challenging than even Heero had feared. That was, he supposed, actually a good thing. His father had been pressuring him lately to take on more work – and if he didn't need to concentrate too much on schoolwork, then he would be able to appease him.

Heero couldn't help but smirk to himself at that thought. After graduation Heero would go into the family business – not unusual for some students – of 'personal acquisitions and liquidations', his father's colloquial terminology for contractual assassinations and abductions. Heero, who was the darling of both the business and international relations departments, idly wondered what his professors would say if they knew he had no intention of going to graduate school in either field of study.

When Heero had turned eighteen his father had given him the choice of going straight to work, or working part time and going to college. Heero had instantly taken the chance to go to college: not because he wanted to put off full-time work, or because he thought he would get much out of the experience. The only reason he wanted to go to college was to get out from under his father's thumb. Of course, his choices of schools had been limited: UCLA or UNLV: the two cities that Odin Lowe Yuy did most of his work from. Heero had grown up in Las Vegas, and knew the city well. The fact that Odin now resided full-time in Los Angeles had made the decision an easy one. He had probably been the only freshman genuinely excited about moving into his dorm-room and getting the chance to eat at the caf.

Now, going into his junior year, Heero was constantly reminded of the fact that in less than two years he would work for his father full-time, instead of doing part-time casework: ten or so assassinations a year, when Heero was on break from school.

Which made it all the more frustrating when his classes didn't go as we he wanted them to. The class he was currently waiting for – International Community – was the one he had been dreading since registration last semester. The university required a 'humanities' course to be taken every year, each focusing on a different aspect. Freshman year it had been ancient history and literature, sophomore year it had been world religion and philosophy. This year Heero would be studying the growing 'international community.' The entire idea behind the classes was to expose students to a different perspective on the world: since every junior was required to take the class, it was split into three sections each semester, each of around three hundred students. These sections met once a week for a lecture. Those sections were further divided into 'groups', randomly chosen by the administration, of ten students and one professor. These groups met twice a week to discuss the lecture and their own class projects. It was designed to give students a one-on-one experience, since most classes at UNLV were made up of at least thirty students.

"Excuse me, do you know if this is the classroom that Group 13 is meeting in?"

Heero looked up at the sudden interruption to his thoughts. A young, slight blonde man stood in the door, palm pilot in hand, leather satchel over one shoulder. He was dressed as though he was going on a business interview: light khakis, blue button-down shirt, and dark loafers. Heero arched an eyebrow at the ensemble, but nodded to the blonde.

He smiled, his face transforming from generic good-looks to stunning with the simple gesture.

"Great. I've been so lost." He sat down beside Heero and started to unpack his bag. "My classes this morning have been a complete disaster, and the last one is all the way across campus – I thought I would be late to this one." He finally stopped for air and held out a hand to Heero. "I'm Quatre Winner."

"Heero Yuy." They shook hands briefly and Quatre smiled again, though there was a hint of mischief behind his eyes this time.

"I can't tell you how much I'm NOT looking forward to this class." Quatre shuddered. "After World Religion last year I was almost ready to transfer – these classes are a good idea, in theory –"

"But in practice they are a complete failure," Heero found himself saying.

Quatre nodded emphatically.

"Exactly. Still – maybe this year will be different?" The blonde shrugged and picked up his palm pilot again and started rapidly tapping the screen with the stylus.

Heero mentally rolled his eyes – people who thought their time was that valuable always annoyed him. Still, he found himself responding to Quatre's charming nature, and found it difficult to muster up his usual irritation at the sound of the stylus hitting the face of the pilot.

"Huh. Guess I'm not too late after all."

Heero and Quatre both looked up at the new arrival.

Skateboard in one hand, sticker covered nalgene in the other, the man who stood in the doorway was the epitome of a west-coast skater in Heero's mind. His lanky body was attired in ripped jeans, and he wore a faded gray t-shirt that had a 'hello, my name is wade' patch on the front. His hair, a rich brown with golden highlights, was pulled back in a braid that fell just below his shoulders.

The newcomer grinned at them and took a seat that back of the class without another word. Quatre went back to his palm pilot and Heero returned to his brooding.

"Sorry I'm running late." It was their professor, Zechs Merquise, a brilliant young organic chemist who had just completed his doctoral work at Stanford. He had been Heero's first choice for this group, and after researching the professor, Heero had hacked into the administrative system and reassigned himself to the group. The professor was young – only a few years older than Heero – and attractive. His blonde hair was long and loose, and the khaki shorts he wore showcased his physique and youth as much as the fitted t-shirt he wore did.

Heero caught himself staring at the tanned and slightly muscular forearms of his professor and jerked his gaze away.

"I guess I'm not the only one running late. We'll give the others a few minutes before we start." Merquise smiled at them and sat on the desk at the front of the room, completely at ease.

It was another ten minutes before the rest of the students had assembled and Merquise stood up again.

"Great, we're all here. Well, I'm guessing that all of you have somehow survived your freshmen and sophomore humanities classes – my congratulations and apologies." Several of the students laughed at the joke, and even Heero smirked in appreciation of Merquise's wry sense of humor. "In any case, I promise to do my best to make this group as painless as possible. Actually, it's my goal that you actually learn something – so let's start by getting to know each other." He held up a hand to forestall complaints. "And I realize that you're sick of this, but, I am new here, and since there's only eleven of us, I'd like to remember each of you. So, to start off, I'm Zechs. I just graduated from Stanford and I'm here teaching Organic Chemistry. Most of my research is in desert ecology. If you look at global trends you will see that desertification – the process of deforestation and erosion that creates more desert – is increasing at an alarming pace. My goal is to figure out how we can adapt our farming practices to reduce that, and also to live with the consequences."

Heero had already known that – it was one of the reasons he had chosen Merquise – and as he looked around the room he saw that the other students were similarly impressed.

"So, why don't you start. Give us your name, your major – anything cool." Merquise gestured to a blonde girl in the front row. She turned halfway in her seat to face the class.

"I'm Relena Peacecraft, journalism major. I'm also the senior editor for the Rebel Yell. I suppose my main interests in journalism are covering politics – after all, they shape our lives." She smiled at them all and then turned to the student nearest her.

"Trowa Barton," said the lithe man whom Heero vaguely recognized. "I'm a BFA art major, and I play golf here."

Relena reached out and hit him on the arm playfully.

"Trowa, don't be so modest. He doesn't just play golf here – he recently won the futures tournament in San Diego!"

Trowa sent her a glare and shrugged, as though the tournament meant nothing. Heero wondered if he had seen Trowa playing golf before – he doubted they had shared any classes.

"Wufei Chang," the next student began before Relena could offer any more accolades. "Philosphy and pre-law. I also founded the student charity organization BENEFIT, which funds ALCU clients."

"Hilde Shciebecker, environmental studies – so I'm really interested in your work, Professor Merquise."

"Call me Zechs."

"Er, Zechs. Which is why I'm going to beg that you let me transfer my work-study over to being your assistant." She waggled her eyebrows and Zechs chuckled.

"I'll see what I can do, Hilde."

"Catherine Bloom, I'm a dance major. And no, I don't work at a strip club to pay for my tuition." She turned in her seat to glare at the back of the room.

"It was a joke! Jesus Christ Cathy! And it was two years ago!" The braided man protested loudly.

Catherine gave an annoyed sigh and turned back to the front of the class.

"I'm Quatre Winner and I'm in hotel management and also business. And…"

"And you're the heir to the Winner Congolmerate!" Relena jumped in for him. Quatre instantly flushed red.

"Yeah. And that."

Heero decided that, at all costs, he would avoid Relena. Already she had proven to be immensely annoying.

"Heero Yuy, business and international relations."

The class waited for him to add more, but after a moment of awkward silence it became obvious that he wasn't going to add anything.

"Right. Anyway, I'm Dorothy Catalonia, architecture student – and I just finished an internship with Green Builders in New York, so, obviously, I'm interested in an environmental perspective."

"Meilin Lee, sports medicine. I'm also on the swim team and I work at the gym, so when you guys need help with your workouts, come talk to me. Not you, Trowa, or your Professor Merquise. It's obvious you two are in great shape." There was a smirk on the Chinese girls' face that went with her teasing voice.

"And last we have…"

"Duo Maxwell, entertainment and engineering major. I also work at Metro, so if you guys ever need a pizza – you know where to go."

Merquise nodded.

"Okay, well, now that we've gotten that out of the way, let me talk to you about the class: we meet on Mondays as a section in the lecture hall, and then Tuesdays and Thursdays we meet here. Monday's lecture will be discussed on Tuesday, and on Thursday we will discuss our readings and class projects. So, for your projects, you have an individual, five thousand word paper due at the end of the semester. You also have two projects: one with a partner, one with a group of five. The five person project will take all semester, but the two person project is due at the midterm. Your syllabus, which I'm passing out now, will have more details on that. Throughout the semester we'll be going on fieldtrips around the city – and our first one will be on Thursday. We're going to have class at the Atomic Museum, over on Flamingo. You won't need to bring anything – it's not worth taking notes, this is a fieldtrip that our entire section is going on, one group at a time, over the course of the semester. We're the first that get to go." Merquise shrugged. "We won't even discuss it until the end of the semester, and by then I'm sure you'll all have forgotten it – so don't sweat it. "

Merquise flipped through a notebook, looking for something else to talk about, then he shrugged.

"So, I'm new in town. Anyone know a good place to grab a burger?"

His question resulted in a half hour debate on the merits of Las Vegas cuisine, which Heero half-listened to. Beside him, Quatre was engrossed with his palm pilot and Heero had to fight off his curiosity to see what the blonde man was looking at.

When the class ended Merquise reminded them to meet at the Atomic Museum and suggested they bring topics for their two-person projects.

As Heero left the classroom Duo Maxwell jumped ahead of him to talk to Merquise.

"Yo, Teach, I heard from Dr. G that you did some research on organic solar harvesting, right?"

"Yes, I did. Though not much. Actually, G told me about your project – the SUNflowers? It sounds very interesting."

"Yeah, if I ever get it to work. Anyway, it'd be cool if you had time to look over my research?"

"Sure. Bring your notes on Thursday."

Heero quickly revised his mental opinion of the skate-boarder. It seemed that he was at least somewhat intelligent , after all.

"Sure thing." Duo put down his skateboard and took off down the hallway, forcing students to leap out of the way to avoid being run over.

Heero shook his head in disgust. Or maybe not.

* * *

Thursday was Duo's self-coined 'hell day.'

He had four classes that day – starting at eight in the morning and not leaving campus until five-thirty, at which point he raced over to Metro Pizza to start his six to midnight shift. It wasn't his favorite day, and by noon he was already on his third cup of coffee.

He was in line at Starbucks, waiting for his forth, when he suddenly remembered the fieldtrip scheduled for today's class.

"Shit!" He exclaimed as he ducked out of line, earning glares from the other patrons, who clutched their coffees close as he brushed past them.

As soon as he stepped outside the café he threw down his skateboard and took off – the museum was a mile from campus, and with luck Duo would be able to navigate the streets well enough to get there only a few minutes late.

He arrived out of breath and slightly sweaty, which he was sure would earn him points with no one. As he stepped inside the ice-cold, air-conditioned museum he was greeted with the impatient glares of his class-mates.

"Wow. You guys didn't have to wait for me."

Merquise made a humming noise in his throat.

"Actually, we did, they're screening a new film today, and they are only showing it once…"

"Oh. Sorry." Duo self-consciously scratched the back of his neck, thoroughly embarrassed.

"Are we finally all here?" A tall woman wearing glasses and a Princess Leia hairstyle stepped forward and glared at Duo.

"Yes, Ms. Une, we're all here."

"Good, then come this way to the theatre. After the film you may take a tour of the museum at your leisure." Une turned sharply and entered the closed door s at the end of the hall. Duo fell in step behind the rest of his classmates, glad that he couldn't see their glares at the back of the line. Merquise walked beside him.

"I'm really sorry about being late," Duo started to apologize.

Merquise held up a hand.

"It's fine. I remember what's it's like to balance classes. I'm relieved that you made it – another ten minutes and we were going to go ahead without you."

"Well, thanks for waiting."

Merquise nodded.

"Just try not to be late next time?"

"Sure, no sweat."

The ' movie theatre' turned out to be a bunker-like structure with wooden benches and warning lights flashing. Duo sat on the back row, between Merquise and Hilde, and prepared himself to try to stay awake as the lights went dark.

The film was short and violent – it started off with views of wildlife and a suburban community. And then a countdown began. When the countdown reached zero the room was flooded with light and noise. Seconds later a mushroom cloud appeared on the screen and Duo felt a rush of hot air in hit him in the face, burning his nose.

And that was it. A moment later the lights came back up and Une walked in again.

"Well, what did you think of our film? Quite realistic, don't you think?"

"Are we gonna wake up with radiation sickness tomorrow?" Duo joked. Une shot him a quelling look.

"The special effects were very interesting," Relena spoke up from the front, her sarcasm carefully hidden under her voice.

"The air was kind of hot," Hilde complained and rubbed at her nose, obviously it had irritated her as well.

"It's a bit insensitive," Wufei added from the front, " after all – you portrayed a test site event. You're simply adding on to the American mythology that nuclear weapons can't hurt US. You should have shown one of the Japanese bombings – maybe added some corpses to the audience? Or selective seating that roasted the patrons," Wufei turned and pointed at Duo's seat, " for instance, placing one over Maxwell's seat would be perfect for maximum effect as everyone stood to leave."

Duo and Une turned matching glares on Wufei.

Beside Duo, Hilde nodded. "I have to agree – not with the killing Duo – but it definitely could be more realistic."

Une was tightlipped when she nodded and gestured for them to exit.

"Tough crowd," Merquise muttered and walked over to Une, presumably to apologize for his student's rude behavior.

Hilde nudged Duo and pointed to an exhibit that featured a miniature train set hauling nuclear warheads.

"Creepy, huh?"

"Pretty much. This whole place is weird. I came here in high school – but it didn't have the lame movie, back then."

Hilde nodded. "Yeah, I can't believe we had to wait for you just to see that crap."

"Sorry about that. Man, I wish I'd been another five minutes later and missed the damn thing."

"Have any ideas for your project yet? Merquise was telling me that he's going to assign us partners based on topics."

"Sounds like a good idea. I really want to look at the financial side of implementing solar energy – you know, look at the different power infrastructures in a few countries and come up with a proposal for a switch to conventional solar energy."

Duo could tell that, before he had said ten words, he had lost Hilde's interest. He grinned. "What about you? Want to research the benefits of marijuana again?"

She glared at the old joke. Freshman year they had lived in the same dorm, across the hall from each other, and her roommate had been caught smoking pot. Hilde, of course, had tried to come to the rescue and claimed that they were researching the medicinal benefits of marijuana when used to treat menstrual cramps. Her excuse had creeped out campus security, but it hadn't saved her roommate from getting thrown out of the dorms. It had been a running joke with Duo and Hilde sense then.

Duo and Hilde trudged through the museum, half paying attention to the exhibits, for another twenty minutes before Merquise rounded them up and walked them to the lobby.

"Okay, while we're all here, go ahead and turn in your project proposals. I'll have you paired off for Tuesday. Also, for Monday's lecture read the Ghandi essays. And enjoy your weekends."

The students turned in their proposals and then started to filter out of the museum. Duo was one of the last to leave and as he stepped outside it started to rain.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, glaring up at the sky. "It's freakin' August! There's no rain in August!"

Merquise stepped outside a few minutes later and found a soaked and furious Duo.

"Need a ride?" He asked, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Duo turned to glare at him.

"A ride? Why would I want a ride when the weather is so perfect?" Duo remained sullen for a few more seconds and then sighed. "Yeah, a ride would be great. I need to get to work – would you mind dropping me off at Metro Pizza?"

Merquise nodded and led the way to his car.

"Nice wheels," Duo commented as he slid into the passenger seat of the obviously well-used Toyota Corolla. "I thought they paid you the big bucks to come out and teach here."

"I had to pay off my gambling debts, so I sold the Ferrari," Merquise explained.

Duo laughed and leaned his head against the headrest as his head started to pound. He rubbed at his head, confused at the sudden migraine-intensity headache.

"Huh."

"You okay? You look pale."

"And wet," Duo groused, still rubbing his forehead. "I'm fine, my head just started to hurt. Must be the change in weather and air pressure or something."

"Hm. Are you okay to work?"

"It's just a migraine or something. I'll take some asprin. Um – this is it. Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Take care, Duo."

"Thanks, um, you too."

Somehow, Duo forced himself to turn and go into the side entrance of the restaurant.

"Christ, Max, you look like shit," he was greeted by the chef.

"Thanks, Mark." Duo walked past the kitchen and into the staff bathroom. Once inside he pulled off his wet clothes, frowning at the feel of cold air against his wet skin. He looked in the mirror as he pulled on his black jeans and noticed that his skin seemed to be breaking out into some kind of rash – around his chest the skin was red and purplish. He rubbed at it, disturbed. The area didn't hurt or even itch, so Duo buttoned up his black shirt and tried to fix his hair.

Six tortuous hours later Duo left the restaurant and staggered home.

The headache that had begun earlier in the day had indeed reached migraine levels by nine o-clock, and Duo had spent the last three hours of work cringing at every sound.

It was lucky he only lived three blocks from the restaurant – unlucky that he head to cross a major road to get there. He walked out into traffic, anxious to get home and not caring about the traffic laws, and came within inches of being hit. He ran the rest of the way, the blare of car horns following him.

He somehow managed to open the front door to his apartment but then he collapsed, hitting his head against the door and falling onto the floor.

* * *

Trowa slowly, painfully, opened his eyes and looked at his alarm clock.

It was noon and it was Saturday.

Which meant that Trowa had slept for the last thirty six hours.

Shit. He had missed an entire day of classes and stood up his date last night. He groaned and rolled over, trying to remember how he had even made it to his bed before passing out on Thursday night. All he could remember was an intense migraine and a strange rash on his stomach.

Frowning, he walked over to the mirror and pulled off his shirt. He examined his torso but saw absolutely no sign of the strange rash. And aside from his stomach aching from hunger, he felt no ill effects from the migraine at all. It was completely bizarre. Almost as if nothing had happened to him.

Still frowning, Trowa took a shower and then ate a protein bar as he continued to contemplate the mystery. Maybe it had been the sudden rain storm and the change in pressure that had upset his body?

But he had never gotten a rash from rain before. Especially such a violent one – it had looked like a bruise that spread from his navel up to his sternum.

After another ten minutes of fruitless contemplation Trowa headed to the gym, deciding that a few hours of exercise would do him some good.

He waved at Meilin, stationed behind the information desk, and she waved back, looking pale and somewhat sick herself.

Trowa headed to the third for and the weight room reserved for varsity athletes. It was empty, a rare occurrence that Trowa took advantage of by cranking up the stereo in the corner and putting it on the NPR station, something he never could have gotten away with if anyone else had been in the room.

He decided to start out with free weights and reached for the fifteen pound weights. As he lifted them up he frowned. They felt incredibly light – almost as though they were the two pound weights. He put them down and picked up the twenty pound weights instead. But even those felt too light. As did the thirty pound and even the forty-five pound weights.

Trowa wondered if some idiot was trying to pull an elaborate practical joke, but he couldn't think of how this could possibly be funny.

He went to the machines and set up the bar bells to one-fifty, his usual weight. He laid down on the bench and drew in several deep breaths before grabbing the bar and lifting.

Instead of lifting, however, he found himself completely off balance as the bar, feeling as though it had no weights on it at all, flew out of his grasp and imbedded itself in the ceiling.

"What the fuck?" Trowa lay on the bench, staring at the bar and the weights, fascinated.

And then they came crashing down on him.

Trowa expected the impact to hurt and squeezed his eyes closed. Moments passed.

Hesitantly he opened his eyes and was shocked by what he saw.

The bar bell was across his waist, bent in a semicircle, the weights on either in sunken in the mats of the floor.

Trowa pushed the weights off and practically ran from the room. He had no idea what had just happened. It wasn't a practical joke – the damage those weights had done to the ceiling and the floor were obviously not done by something fake – and yet Trowa hadn't felt the impact at all.

Something was seriously wrong.

TBC...

A/N: I know absolutely nothing about the undergrad program at UNLV, so this stuff is totally made up. Aside from that, I'm trying to keep things as based in reality as is possible... fake science and all aside.


	3. Chapter 3

For Warnings see the prologue. Thanks for reading! And please, review.

1.2: In the Beginning

Sunday was Quatre's least favorite day of the week. It was the one day he was required to spend with his family. Last year, before his father moved to Las Vegas to personally oversee the construction of City Center, the family visit had been annoying, but survivable. Now, confronted with his father's eternal disappointment and his eleven sister's constant nagging, Quatre woke up with a sense of dread.

He had spent all day Saturday catching up on homework. He still had no idea how he had managed to sleep through an entire day of classes, but he was already swamped with essays and readings, and he had devoted little time to the mystery as he stayed up late in the night to work.

Quatre eventually pulled himself out of bed and went through his morning routine on autopilot.

Clean and shaved, he stood in front of his closet and debated what to wear: presentation was everything with his family, and his father never ceased to criticize Quatre's wardrobe. If he wore a suit he was too 'foreign looking', if he wore jeans he was 'insolent' and the color of his shirts was often a source of deate. It was enough to make Quatre want to just show up naked.

At length he dressed in khaki's and a crisp, white button-up. It was the most undramatic attire Quatre could put together, and he hoped it passed muster.

When the driver pulled to a stop in front of the Winner's Henderson residence, Quatre thanked him and got out of the car.

_Spoiled Brat_.

Quatre turned around to stare at the driver incredulously, but the man looked back with a blank expression.

"I'll return at seven o'clock, Mr. Winner," he said.

_Lucky Bastard. Wish I was filthy rich._

Quatre nodded and the driver took off.

What had that been about? He had heard the driver's words as clearly as though he had spoken them – but the driver hadn't actually said the words aloud.

"Mr. Winner, the family is on the veranda," Rashid greeted him.

"Than – thanks, Rashid. How is Miriam?"

Rashid smiled at him.

"She's well, the little one is keeping her up late, he's a handful." Rashid laughed good naturedly.

Quatre nodded and smiled, pleased at the happiness of the longtime family servant.

_Poor kid. No one ever loved him like I love my son._

Quatre stepped away, filled with a sudden, aching sadness that felt alien. The words, the emotions, were not HIS.

"I'm, um, that's great news, Rashid. I should join my father now." And Quatre practically ran away.

His father and sisters were arrayed on the veranda, eating a light lunch and sipping mimosa's, his father's drink of choice for his 'American family.' Even though the Winner's were technically Muslim, Ali Winner forbid his daughters to cover their hair – he even encouraged them to wear miniskirts – and the family only attended mosque on the holy days. Quatre, as a youth, had gone through a spiritual phase when he collected Sufi writings and attended mosque every Friday, as well as prayed five times a day. His father had found out and sent him to a boarding school in Japan for a year: the rigorous schedule had prevented him from even trying to pray during the day, and the list of extracurricular activities his father had enrolled him in left him bone weary at night. It was with much resentment that Quatre had given up his religious quest, and only after his favorite sister, Iria, had cried to him that Ali would disown Quatre if he didn't give up on it. Ali Winner didn't want religion associated with his family – if he could, he would have emigrated to America and converted to Methodism, or something else that was NOT Islam. As it was all of his wives had been blonde haired and blue eyed, pale and perfect. As a result, most of his twenty daughters and his only son were all more Aryan than Semitic in appearance.

"Ah, at last, the prodigal son returns." Ali stood and greeted Quatre with a handshake.

_Still weak_. The words came to Quatre as soon as he had released his father's hand. Quatre clenched his fists in anger. He had no idea what was going on – maybe he was hallucinating all of this? Maybe all of his personal fears had finally gotten the better of him and he was going insane?

He sat down beside Iria, who smiled at him and passed him a glass of water, which Quatre accepted gratefully.

_I hope no one notices._ Quatre looked over at his sister, saw he rubbing her stomach. _My little angel._

Quatre felt his eyes widen as a feeling of pure love washed over him. Not only that, but he felt a tiny tug, a small, almost insignificant sense of hope return the feeling.

"Iria…what did you just say?"

She looked over at him, her gaze fearful.

"I didn't say anything, Quatre. Are you feeling well? You look pale."

_Maybe I should tell Quatre about Sam and I. He would understand. And about little Sarah._

"Iria," Quatre leaned closer, whispering to her, "Iria, are you pregnant?"

She jerked back from him, knocking over her own glass of water and spilling it all over her clothes.

_Clumsy idiots. My two most beautiful children – my two greatest disappointments._

Quatre glared at his father even as he helped Iria mop off the water.

"Quatre, how did you know?"

"I… I don't know, Iria. I – I won't tell anyone. Does Sam know?"

Iria nodded and whispered back, " We got married two months ago. We eloped."

Quatre laughed.

"Iria, we're in Las Vegas – and you eloped?"

"To Reno. I know. Sooo romantic."

By this point they were attracted the attention of their siblings and so they resumed their seats. Quatre reached over and squeezed Iria's hand.

He felt a sense of relief and happiness from her and it made him smile.

"Well, Quatre, how was your first week of school?" His father asked him.

"It went well. My classes will be challenging."

"Hm. I'm glad that you dropped that sculpture class – it would have been a complete waste of your time. Taking another semester of Spanish is a much better use of your time."

"Yes father." Quatre had, in fact, signed up to take both classes – he would be auditing the sculpture class, which put his course load at twenty-one hours this semester.

"And you, Khadejiah? How is your graduate work progressing?"

Quatre and Khadejiah were the youngest, and Khadejiah had just begun her final year of graduate work for her law degree. All of Quatre's other sisters were married or working in the family business except for Iria, who had stubbornly refused to marry any of their father's friends and had instead gone to medical school. Two years ago she had moved back to Las Vegas to open her own free clinic with a friend from medical school, Sam Ford, who she was also dating.

Khadejiah gave her own progress report and Quatre allowed his thoughts to wander to his other sisters. He concentrated on Alima, seated beside him. Alima was thirty and worked as a marketing executive for Winner Inc. As a child, Quatre had been almost as terrified of Alima as he was of their father – she was mercurial and cruel and had always resented the fact that, as the only son of Ali, he stood to inherit the entire family fortune.

He tried to listen to her thoughts and feel her emotions – surely, if he wasn't crazy, he would be able to sense something from her.

"Alima, have you started the French advertisements?" Ali suddenly asked.

Beside Quatre, Alima stiffened.

"Of course, Baba. Tomorrow morning I will have roughs on your desk for you to approve."

_After six years of doing this, you would think he would have some confidence in my abilities._ There was a wave of resentment from her so strong that Quatre felt nauseous.

It was hours later, after an awkward family game of charades that made Quatre feel like a cheater, and an early supper that Quatre walked to the driveway and saw his car waiting.

Just before he escaped, however, his father caught up with him.

"Quatre. I want a word."

Obediently, Quatre followed his father into the first floor office.

Ali sat down behind his desk and lit a cigar.

"Quatre, are you familiar with Relena Peacecraft?"

Quatre frowned, then nodded.

"Yes, she edits the school paper. I'm in a class with her this semester."

"Good, good. I want you to invite her to dinner next week."

"Father?"

"Her family are important, and major investors in real estate. It would be beneficial for the two of you to be on good terms."

"I hardly know her, Father. She might not even like me."

_Kids these days. So willful._

"That doesn't really matter. Her father and I have talked, and it would make both of us happy for the two of you to be friends. You do want to make me happy, don't you Quatre?"

_He'd better not still have feelings for that boy. My only son will not be a queer._

Quatre felt his face flush at the memory of his father interrupting his first kiss.

"Of course I want to make you happy – but if I don't have feelings for her, it isn't fair to Relena."

His father's face clouded with anger.

"Quatre, I have raised to be a charming man. You will charm her. And she will be here with you next week. Or I'll cut you off."

It was a threat that had been used often on Quatre, the wayward child who flouted his father's authority at every opportunity. As before, it had little effect on him. Ali seemed to notice.

"It isn't only your future at stake. Think of your sisters. Think of Iria."

And that, of course, was the one threat guaranteed to keep him in line. Unlike Quatre, who had inherited a small fortune from his mother, Iria barely had enough money to run her clinic. Without Ali's support she wouldn't be able to continue to offer free medical aid to homeless and abused patients.

"I will certainly make every attempt to charm her into coming, Father."

Ali nodded and waved Quatre out of his office.

The driver stood by the car, waiting somewhat impatiently. He opened the rear door when Quatre appeared.

"Heading home, sir?"

_Bet he's had the time of his life_.

"Yes, please." Quatre tried his best to ignore the disgust rolling off the driver. He wondered how long he had resented Quatre, his job, and the family.

The thought was depressing, but not as depressing as the thought that Quatre might be going insane. But still – he had sensed that Iria was pregnant, when no one else knew. Was it possible? Maybe… maybe he wasn't crazy after all? Maybe he could sense the thoughts and feelings of those around him. But how? And why?

* * *

Monday morning came too quickly for Wufei. Sunday he had spent the afternoon at a local protest, organizing the participants and arguing with the police who threatened to throw them all in jail. He had returned home very late, after having to post bail for several of the protestors who had, actually, been thrown in jail. As a result he was up late, trying to finish homework that he would normally have done on Friday and Saturday – the two days that he had somehow, mysteriously lost.

Even though he woke late, Wufei still had time to prepare breakfast. Eating well was one of his priorities in life, and he always took the time to prepare his own meals when possible. That hadn't been possible yesterday, and he had instead spent the day chugging down smoothies.

Entering the kitchen of his small apartment, Wufei debated between an omelet and another smoothie. He decided that four in one day had been enough, yesterday, and walked over to the gas stove to turn it on.

As soon as he held his hand over the stove top the flame lit under the front burner.

Wufei scowled and fiddled with the knobs. Had he left it on all weekend? But that didn't explain the sudden flame, even if the gas had been on. He turned off the gas and the burner.

Testing the heat of the burner, Wufei turned on the gas and put his hand over it. Again, instant flame. Even though the burner was definitely off.

"What the hell?"

He definitely didn't have time to mess with the stove today, and with disgust, he grabbed a banana from on top of the fridge.

A horrible smell of rotting, burning fruit filled the kitchen. Wufei looked down to see that the banana in his had was on fire, smoldering and charring. Oddly, he didn't even feel the heat.

He threw the banana into the sink and turned the water on, irritated beyond words when the pipe turned red and poured out steam.

Wufei stepped away from the sink and forced himself to calm down. There had to be a logical explanation for all of this, he just needed to calm down and think about it rationally.

He finally managed to get his breathing and heart rate down, and felt his anger slip away. He reached out to turn the 'steam off.' At his touch, however, the steam instantly turned to water and doused the still flaming banana.

Wufei stared at the flow of water for a moment, confused and starting to get irritated again. He turned the water off and left the kitchen to go shower, determined to put the incident behind him. He would figure it out tonight. He would be running late to school, however, if he didn't get showered and dressed in the next ten minutes.

Once on campus, Wufei's day seemed to take a turn for the normal: he turned in his briefs in his international law seminar and he joined in the debate on euthanasia. Everything was going well until just after lunch, when he was struggling to finish his smoothie before going into his section lecture.

A blur of hair, riding a skateboard with no concern for anyone else, knocked into him, Forcing Wufei to spill the smoothie all over himself.

Even as the ice cold fruit stained his clothes and skin Wufei felt his anger burn inside of him.

"What the hell is your problem? Watch where you are going on that idiotic thing! Grow up and start walking like a human being and stop clowning around!" Wufei grabbed the boy, who he recognized as Maxwell, and forced him to look at him. As soon as his hand touched the boy's arm, however, Maxwell jerked back.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" Maxwell demanded, cradling his arm and the crisped edges of his shirt.

Wufei felt his blood turn cold. Had he really just… _burnt_ Maxwell?

The braided menace was glaring at Wufei.

"Where's your lighter, Chang? Give it to me and let me return the favor, huh? I'm sorry I ran into you – but that doesn't give you the excuse to burn me. I'm not the freakin' American flag, asshole."

Wufei blinked, completely confused. And then he relaxed. Maxwell had no idea that it had been Wufei's hands that bad burned him.

"Grow up," he retorted and threw the smoothie into the trash and walked away, his heart still hammering at the close call.

* * *

"Well, how are things progressing with Group 13?"

Zechs frowned at his dinner companion.

"I didn't get to spend any time with them today, my class with them is tomorrow."

"Surely you have some preliminary observations?"

"Aside from the obvious fact that I don't seem to be affected?" Zechs ground out.

Across from him, Treize Khushrenada, president of Romafeller technologies, laughed.

"My dear Zechs, have patience. Clearly, we adjusted the serum to have maximum effect on the young adult body – we'll simply have to adjust it and make it a little stronger for you. Remember, it was you who pointed out that genetic manipulation was easier for younger subjects. But, let us focus on our successes, hm? What have you noticed?"

Zechs forced himself to set aside his anger and think back over the weekend with clinical objectiveness.

"It's obvious that Duo Maxwell has been affected – Thursday evening, twenty minutes after exposure, he was suffering the observed first symptoms."

"Good, very good. He's one of the most promising subjects."

Zechs raised an eyebrow at that.

"No home, no family, no future. He'll be easy to acquire, when the time is right, "Treize explained with an offhand gesture. "Now, what else?"

"Quatre Winner was showing signs of distress and anxiety today, so I feel confident that he has experienced…something. Wufei Chang was also exhibiting signs of anxiety."

"Good,good."

"Hilde Schiebecker was absent. I'm not positive that that is related – but it could be. Also, Relena Peacecraft was… almost subdued."

"And what of Heero Yuy?"

Zechs racked his brain. His first impression of the exotic looking boy had been one of disinterest: Yuy had no interest in his field and clearly wanted to get an A from the class with the least fuss possible. Today he had looked no different than his usual, cold self.

"He sat alone, at the back of the class, but did not seem to exhibit any symptoms."

"Good, good. Well, my friend, I need to go to a meeting. Please, send me an update after your class tomorrow? And don't worry about your own situation. We'll fix it."

Treize shook hands with Zechs briefly and then left, leaving the blonde scientist to glare at their empty plates.

He had signed on for the project two years ago, at Stanford, because HE wanted to be given the ability to mutate his genetic structure. He wanted the abilities that he was supposed to be cataloguing in his students.

And yet it seemed that he was merely relegated to the role of observer. Zechs decided that, for now, he would allow it. However, as soon as he could, he would strike out on his own and uncover the serum's secrets for himself.

* * *

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

See first chapter for warnings.

Please review!! Please?

* * *

1.3: Partners

Tuesday was as hot and cloudless as every day of last week, and Heero, as with every day last week, plowed through his classes without interest. These days, it seemed, he was on autopilot. Nothing challenged him, nothing upset him, nothing concerned him. Nothing, of course, except for the strange illness that had struck him over the weekend. When he woke on Saturday morning, all traces of the illness – from the rash to his intense migraine – had vanished. He had spent the exercising and eating fruit and protein, and by Sunday had felt perfectly healthy. He supposed that it had been some freak viral infection, possibly made worse by the sudden rainstorm and shift in barometric pressure on Thursday.

So when he walked into his afternoon global community group he had put the incident from his mind and was instead ready to contribute the absolute minimum to class discussions. He hoped that Professor Merquise would try to lead the discussions in a fruitful direction, but he certainly didn't have his hopes up.

Quatre Winner was already seated at the table he and Heero had shared last Tuesday, and Heero decided to sit beside the blonde again. As he approached he noticed the handsome blonde stiffen, but Quatre said nothing to him. Mentally shrugging, Heero sat down and nodded a greeting.

"Afternoon, Heero," Quatre said, voice guarded.

"You're on time today," Heero said.

"Yeah, my last class let out early." Quatre was staring at him intently, his pale blue eyes searching Heero's own. It made Heero feel slightly uncomfortable, he wondered if there was something on his face? He suddenly felt a wash of unfamiliar emotions and frowned, wondering why he was feeling so… not himself suddenly. He felt a mixture of fear, anxiety, and… attraction? He frowned.

"Have a good weekend?" Heero hated idle chitchat, but something was obviously upsetting Quatre, and in the past, Heero had noticed that chatter calmed most people. It would also buy him time to get himself – and these strange emotions – under control.

"It was okay. I had a bit of the flu or something and slept all day Friday. I even missed classes!"

Hero found himself nodding.

"Me too." And then he frowned again. It was odd, wasn't it, that both of them had missed an entire day of class? Then again, they HAD both been caught in the rain, and perhaps they had been exposed to a virus while in this class last week? It was certainly possible.

Quatre seemed to relax, and as he did the strange flux of emotions seemed to drift away.

"What's up hombres?" It was Maxwell, loud and intrusive as always. Heero barely refrained from glaring at him.

"Good to see the sun back out, huh? Wasn't that freak rainstorm bizarre?" Duo again sat at the back and didn't wait for a response to his questions before he sat down, propped his feet up on the desk, and pulled out the most recent issue of Popular Mechanics.

Heero rolled his eyes and turned away.

It was a few more minutes before the rest of the class filed in, Professor Merquise the last to arrive.

"Sorry, again, about being late. I've got to figure out a short cut between here and the science building."

"I usually cut through the ROTC union," Hilde offered.

"That's because you've got a fetish for guys in uniform," Duo said from the back.

"Like I'm the only one."

Several of the students and even Merquise laughed.

"Alright, well, I've got your group assignments and your two person assignments. I'll pass those out at the end of class. In the meantime, let's talk about the fieldtrip and then the lecture."

"What's to talk about? It was completely lame. Seriously, that was their 'super cool movie premier'? I'm pretty sure we could rig up a better movie in ten minutes." Duo groused, but it seemed that most of the class felt the same. Even Wufei nodded in agreement.

"The museum itself held interesting artifacts," Quatre said, obviously trying to be diplomatic.

"Western artifacts. The complete bias and disregard for actual historical relevancy was appalling." Wufei was clearly ready to launch into a tirade, so Merquise interrupted.

"So, I take it the trip was a bust. Let's move on to the lecture and talk about Ghandhi?"

"Let's not," this came from Relena. "I'm so sick of hearing about Ghandhi all the time – and I really thought that this class would open us of to a different sense of global community. But all of us have had to read his letters and essays before. I mean, honestly, when are we going to get a feminist perspective on all this?"

Wufei snorted in disgust and Relena rounded on him.

"What, Chang?"

Heero knew that the two were spoiling for a fight, and he started to smirk: at least this would be interesting. As he prepared for the inevitable continuation of their argument, however, he again felt strange emotions. The anxiety was back but there was something else… irritation?

"Nothing, go ahead and launch into your rich white girl speech. It's not like we haven't all heard THAT before too."

"Oh yeah, because you are SOO underprivileged. In fact, let's talk about you – when's the last time you even had to consider how much money was in your bank account? When have you ever had to worry about medical equality? When you were doing college interviews, how easy was it for you to get into wherever you wanted because you're Chinese?"

The class was silent for a moment, everyone holding their breath, waiting for Wufei to make the next attack.

"It was interesting to look at India as a case study for post-modern philosophical development," Trowa eventually said, breaking the tension in the room.

"As a failure, you mean," Dorothy said. "It's always the same – humankind is destined to repeat their own mistakes, no matter where, no matter when."

"Right. Let's take this into a different arena and discuss the essays themselves. Can anyone offer some textual support for their arguments?" Merquise looked anxious to change the subject to something less explosive.

From there they discussed the essays in detail, and by the time class was over Merquise seemed to have forgotten the project assignments. Hilde was sure to remind him, however, just as Duo had made it to the door.

"That's right. Alright. Duo, you and Heero are working together; Quatre, you and Trowa; Dorothy and Catherine; Wufei and Meilin; and Relena and Hilde. I put you with a person whose proposal seemed the most in common with your own. I'll leave it up to you to decide your actual topics. Um, for the five person groups, we have Duo, Trowa, Hilde, Catherine, and Wufei in one group. Which leaves Heero, Relena, Dorothy, Quatre, and Meilin in the other group. So, try and have proposals for each project to me for next Tuesday. And for Thursday do the next set of readings."

Heero couldn't help but glare at Duo. The braided boy didn't seem too pleased about the arrangement either.

"Well, um, want to arrange a time to meet?" Duo asked, standing to the side as everyone else file out of the class.

"I have a class to attend right now. I can meet with you after seven."

"Yeah, well, I'm on my way to work. I'll be working at seven."

"When do you get off?" Heero demanded, frustrated at Duo's unwillingness to compromise.

"Midnight."

"Fine. I'll meet you in front of Metro at midnight."

Duo shrugged and skated away, leaving Heero to glare after him.

It wasn't until Duo had skated out of sight that Heero realized that the strange emotions were gone. He scowled – what had that been about?

The rest of his day passed quickly and he decided to spend the time before he met with Duo in the library. His father had sent him an email about a new job in Hong Kong, for over Heero's fall break, and it would be good to do some research and make some preliminary reservations for the trip.

By midnight, Heero was bored and frustrated – and eager to meet with Maxwell and be done with the annoying skater until Thursday. It still irritated him that Merquise had paired him with the slacker – what could their proposals possibly have had in common?

Metro was slowly closing down for the night when Heero pulled in the parking lot. He turned off his car and leaned against the hood to wait for Duo. It was almost twelve-thirty before he finally spotted the braided man leaving the restaurant, garbed entirely in black, carrying a pizza box and chatting with a woman wearing a similar, if more revealing, outfit.

"Maxwell," Heero called out.

Duo frowned and looked in his direction.

"Oh shit, hey, buddy, sorry you had to wait. Hey, catch you tomorrow, Lu." Duo waved to the woman and walked over to Heero.

"Wow, man, I can't believe that I forgot. I'm such an asshole. Um… so, want to talk about our project?"

Heero glared at Duo. The scent of pizza made his stomach growl, and Duo grinned.

"Or we could eat some pizza and THEN talk about the project? It's a Bronx bomber – sausage, pepperoni, and bacon… folded over and more cheese than you could ever dream of…. Sound good?"

"It sounds disgusting," Heero muttered. "Where do you want to go?"

"Huh?"

"To eat. And talk about our project."

"Oh. Oh, so you do want to eat the disgusting pizza after all?" Duo smirked. "I live about two blocks over there – my roommate works at night, so it'll be quiet. And clean," he quickly added at Heero's look of suspicion.

"Fine."

They drove over in Heero's car, the pizza making the vehicle smell like tomato and grease, Heero glaring at the road the whole way.

"You know," Duo said over his shoulder as he walked up the stairs to his apartment. "You might want to consider lightening up once in a while. It can't be good for your blood pressure to go around this pissed all the time."

"Idiot."

Duo spun around quickly, his eyes flashing in anger. He lost his balance on the narrow steps and the pizza box slipped from his hands. Heero jumped to the side just as Duo dove for the pizza.

Heero winced, anticipating the fall that Duo was about to take.

But nothing happened – Duo seemed to freeze in midair, his body suspended, holding the pizza box straight out.

"What the hell?" Duo turned scared eyes to Heero.

"What are you doing?" Heero demanded, backing against the wall.

"Nothing. I – shit, am I floating?"

"No. That's not possible." Heero frowned. "It sure looks like you are."

"Jesus Chirst. Oh fuck. Er – can you ah, tug me down, or something?" Duo looked anxious, and his hair was floating around his face, making him look fragile and ethereal.

Heero cautiously grabbed Duo's waist and started to pull the braided boy towards him. As soon as he had gotten a firm grasp however, he found himself joining Duo in the air.

"Um, well, this is awkward," Duo said as Heero continued to clutch his stomach.

Heero glared at the other man.

"Stop it, right now."

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Just – put us down."

"Dude, I don't even know how we're up here. I don't know how to make us get down."

"Concentrate."

"On what?!" Duo was obviously getting frustrated, and scared. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them.

"Well?" Heero demanded.

"Um… don't look down."

Heero looked down. They were now some thirty feet in the air.

"What the hell are you doing?" He demanded.

"I don't know. Well I mean, just now I thought about flying – like Peter Pan?"

"You – " Heero couldn't even begin to have a conversation with this idiot. And they were still going higher.

"Get us down."

"Just let go, if you're that freaked."

Heero looked down, they were now almost fifty feet in the air. He scowled, unwilling to take the chance.

"Can you just… aim for the roof or something?"

Duo frowned and looked around him.

"Um, yeah, let me just turn on my autopilot," he muttered sarcastically.

Heero rolled his eyes.

"Just get us out of the air!"

"Then just shut up and let me think!" Duo shouted back at him.

And from somewhere down below a woman screamed.

Heero panicked, the bloodcurdling sound surprising him enough that he released his hold on Duo.

"Fuck!"

Duo reached towards him – and then stopped.

Heero wasn't falling to his death. He was hanging in midair beside Duo.

"Why didn't you tell me you could do it too, you asshole?" Duo demanded.

"I can't – I Couldn't," Heero amended.

Below them, the woman was still screaming, although now she was demanding that someone call the cops.

"Shit, we've got to get out of here," Duo said.

Heero frowned, realizing the truth of that statement.

"How?" Heero tried to propel himself forward, swimming in the air. All that happened was Duo begun to laugh uncontrollably.

"Dude, you look – completely stupid. Oh my god, where's my camera phone?"

"Duo! We are floating in midair, now is not the time!"

"Er, okay. Chill out. Hm." Duo scowled in concentration and then held his right arm in front of him, imitating Superman.

"Are you serious?" Heero couldn't believe that Duo was actually trying to -

Suddenly Duo was zooming through the air, calling out wildly.

"Who-hoo! It works! Just think about Superman. Try to fly like Superman does!"

Heero scowled but, feeling ridiculous, copied Duo's pose and pictured himself as Superman, flying through the air. And he shot forward, the wind hard and cold on his face.

"Awesome!" Duo was still flying ahead of him, and Heero pushed himself to catch up. The sound of the woman screaming slowly faded behind them, the sound of Duo's laughter and the wind whipping past them drowning out all other sounds.

* * *

By the time Hilde got home from work her roommates were asleep and the lights were out.

She cursed as she stumbled over something that sounded like a can. Stumbling towards the wall, she fumbled for the light switch.

When the lights flooded on the room was revealed to be a complete wreck. Apparently her roommates had decided to have a party. Again.

Too tired and angry to do anything else, Hilde collapsed onto the couch and turned on the television, not caring that the volume was pretty high for one in the morning.

She closed her eyes and put her head down against the couch, feeling every bone in her body ache.

Her shift at the Stake Out had only just ended, and while Hilde normally survived work intact, tonight had been difficult to get through. Several college students had decided to come by and make her life hell by constantly changing their orders and trying to grab her ass. Eventually she had 'dropped' a pitcher of beer on one of them. She knew they weren't going to tip her well, and there was only so much 

she could take after a long day of school. So they had cussed her out and left – paying the bill only when the bartender stopped them at the door – and refused to give her any tip.

The bartender, and manager, Joe, had told her that this was a final warning: too many customers complained that Hilde wasn't polite enough: meaning that she didn't sit on their laps.

"Turn down the damn tv!" One of her roommates was obviously still up.

Frowning, Hilde reached for the remote on the coffee table. It was just out of reach, however.

"Come on, I don't want to move." She muttered to the remote, willing it closer.

And suddenly it leapt into her hand.

Hilde stared at the remote in shock.

"Turn it down!"

Eyes wide, she depressed the volume button until the television was muted.

"Thank you!"

Hilde cautiously put the remote back on the coffee table.

She held out her hand, once again, and willed the remote to come back to her.

It landed in her palm gently.

"Oh my god, I can use the Force."

* * *

Dorothy sat at her kitchen table, glaring at the bowls of ice cubes in front of her, furious that they remained frozen.

In her sink, there was already two bowls of water – the remains of ice cubes that she had melted earlier in the evening. Those had been pure luck – she had dropped an ice cube from the freezer and glared at it. Instantly it had melted.

And so she had experimented with her ability to melt more ice cubes, and discovered that her emotions fueled the event. Now, however, she was trying to control her emotions and force the ice cubes to melt through her will alone. It wasn't working.

She allowed her anger out, and the ice cubes melted instantly.

"Damnit!"

Growling in frustration, Dorothy dumped the bowl in the sink with the others. She reached into the freezer to grab more ice cubes and put them in a new bowl.

Sitting back at the kitchen table, Dorothy concentrated on calming down and focusing her attention on the ice cubes. She closed her eyes and tried to create a link between her and the ice – instead of directing her anger at it, she tried directing her mind. She visualized the ice melting, each cube shrinking until they joined into a tepid pool.

Dorothy opened her eyes and smiled. It had worked. The ice had melted – and by her will, not by her anger. She repeated the experiment five times before satisfied that she could control the melting process – she even managed to turn cold water to a boil.

After tidying up she called her uncle.

"Dorothy? Why are you calling at this hour?"

"Uncle, I wanted to inform you that things are progressing as planned."

"Are they? Very good. So you can control it?"

"Yes sir. I can even control different levels of heat. I haven't experimented with large bodies of water yet, but I plan to try that tomorrow."

"Excellent. Thank you for informing me, Dorothy. Is there any word from your classmates? Have you noticed any changes in them yet?"

Dorothy frowned. The constant question: what about everyone else? No one was ever content with her success – they wanted to compare her to others.

"I have no knowledge of their powers."

"Hm. Work on that. It is essential for the project that we have a wide net of data."

"Of course, Uncle."

"Good, good. Alright. Go to bed now. And keep me informed of any other advances. Especially anything concerning Quatre Winner."

"Yes sir."

TBC…

A/N: I've you've figured out what Heero's powers are, well, then, I did say I was taking stuff from Heroes.. so , you know, there you.

Also, it seems pretty Heero and Duo heavy at the moment – but it won't stay that way. I am going to concentrate more on the boys and let all the other characters sort of float in and out, and they'll have their own subplots to attend to, and sometimes the focus will shift to them – but for the majority it will be the five guys.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: See first chapter for warnings.

Special thanks to everyone who's reviewed this fic. Also thanks to those who have put this on their alerts/fav lists, but I've got a favor to ask: if you could, take a sec to drop me a line. Let me know what you like about the fic, who your fav character is so far… or criticize me! Please! If you think someone isn't getting fair treatment, or think someone is getting too much time, lemme know. I love feedback, especially if it helps me write a better story for you guys(read girls, because let's be honest, not too many of THOSE around) to read.

Warning: Holy crap! Relena isn't just a dumb bitch after all! Er, sorry, just wanted to give fair warning that, at least for now, Relena has her uses.

Also: if you were starting to despair of there ever being a couple in this fic, one is about to develop: skip to the end of this chapter if you just can't stand the suspense for who it is!

AND: The Cat Cactus is so not mine, nor is that whole speech about it. But it IS real – created by Jesse… crap I forgot his last name (Golem, maybe?), but he's a brilliant artist, a student at UNLV, and a genius. I'll be stealing more of his mad creations later on. And no, he doesn't know that I'm using them… I've just been lucky enough to see his work.

1.4: Study Session

Batman had been Duo's favorite superhero, as a kid, mostly because the guy kicked ass without using 'superpowers' – after all, wasn't it lame that Superman could handle anything except for some green rocks? And Spiderman was, well, honestly, a bit of a dork. But Batman – the Dark Knight – that had been someone that Duo could appreciate.

He had never been a big fan of comics – never having spending money, and when he did have money, he had better things to do than buy comic books – but he watched the movies at friends' houses, and had watched the animated series every once in a while.

Still, faced with the fact that he, himself, seemed to be prime fodder for his own superhero storyline, Duo was freaked out.

After a night of flying with Heero out in the desert, Duo had returned home around dawn, praying that his neighbor had been carted off to a mental hospital and no one had believed her screams about 'flying kids.' It seemed that, so far, he was in the clear. His roommate was still asleep when Duo crept in, and there wasn't a squad car in sight.

But last night… had been crazy. After he and Heero had flown away from the apartments they had found a spot in the desert near Red Rock to, well, crash land. Heero had insisted on spending the next four hours investigating their new found ability, until both of them could control their flying, and their landings. But that hadn't satisfied either of them: both were curious about how, when, and why this sudden… power had developed. So they had agreed to meet again in the morning, at the Starbucks across from campus (as opposed to the one on campus, or the one south of campus, or either of the two north of campus) at seven, before their first classes of the day. Which gave Duo just enough time to grab a shower, a change of clothes, and his books.

When he finished blow-drying his hair he was disgusted and jealous to see that his roommate was still blissfully unconscious. As loudly as he could, Duo collected his books and backpack and slammed the door closed, hoping that the lazy bastard would at least…roll over or something. Duo's roommate was famous for his ability to get completely plastered, pass out for ten hours, go to work the next night, and repeat the process. This was to the exclusion of everything else: he didn't clean dishes or the house, or his clothes. Duo wondered, sometimes, if he even bothered to shower.

Duo had just stepped outside when a cop car pulled up, lights flashing, but siren silent. And the screaming lady from last night was walking out of her apartment to meet them.

"Oh shit."

_Please don't see me, please don't be here for me, please go away. Don't look over here. Just let me be invisible._

The cops got out of the car and started walking towards Duo,the lady following them and directing them to his apartment. He shrank back against the wall next to his front door, looking to his left and right for an escape.

_Invisible. Why the hell could't I get that as a superpower?_ He thought bitterly as the cops started walking up the steps.

"Which apartment, ma'am?"

"That one." The lady pointed right at Duo and the cops nodded.

Completely ignoring him, the cops knocked on the door.

"Las Vegas Police Department," they called.

Duo blinked. Did they really not see him – standing right there in front of them?

"I know he lives there. Some kid with a braid. Always wears black. One of those emo kids or whatever." The woman spat out the words.

Duo rolled his eyes. Emo? Him? Yeah, right. He didn't wear makeup, or cut his wrists, or listen to music – he frowned. Okay, so maybe he listened to emo music, and yeah, he wore a lot of black. But…

Seriously, they didn't see him standing right there?

Predictably, even the cops couldn't rouse the drunken roommate.

"Ma'am, it appears no one is at home. We can back in a few hours?"

"Yes, please. He's up to something – he's not normal."

"We'll look into it, Man," the cops assured her and then promptly left. The woman stood glaring at the door for a minute before she too left.

Duo shook his head and let out a long breath. He had no idea what the hell had just happened – but he was pretty sure that it had something to do with the whole flying thing. Which meant he should probably tell Heero.

Which reminded him – he was late, again. And he had no idea where his skateboard had ended up last night.

He was a good fifteen minutes late to Starbucks, and Heero was waiting out front, glaring.

"Sorry, man, lost my board. And the cops were hanging around. Oh, and I can turn invisible or something, apparently."

Heero took in Duo's report passively.

"Prove it."

"Here in the parking lot?" Duo looked around – it was early, but Starbucks was already jammig.

Heero frowned as he considered that.

"Let's go to the bathroom."

Duo rolled his eyes and followed his 'partner.'

"Because that's not gonna be awkward at all," he muttered.

Once in the bathroom Heero leaned against the door to prevent someone else from walking in on them and looked at Duo expectantly.

"Okay, um, here goes…." Duo waited for something to happen.

"I can still see you."

"Yeah, okay, gimme a minute." Duo frowned and concentrated – what had he been doing before? The last time?

He thought about making himself invisible, pictured himself vanishing in front of Heero, of there being nothing but air.

"You're gone."

Duo was disappointed by how unimpressed Heero sounded.

"Yeah, isn't that awesome?" Duo let go of his ideas of being invisible, and Heero blinked and focused on him again.

"Hn. How did you do it?"

"I just thought about being invisible. I pictured me vanishing and you not being able to see me."

"Hn." Heero stared straight ahead, glaring at Duo. And then he vanished.

"Shit, man, you did it."

Then Heero was suddenly back in view, smirking.

"It isn't difficult."

"Yeah, okay, Mr. The World Could Explode and I still Wouldn't Care," Duo muttered. "I thought it was cool, anyway."

At that, Heero laughed.

Duo shook his head as he realized it was the first time he had heard him laugh.

"Anyway, I want to figure out how this happened. It's cool that we can do it – but why?"

Heero nodded in agreement, sobering instantly.

"I agree. Coffee?"

"Er, yeah," Duo was confused by the sudden change of subject, but he followed Heero from the bathroom and stood in line by the counter.

"I can't think without coffee," Heero confessed, and Duo wondered when he had flipped on the human switch and decided to start talking to Duo. Maybe sharing some valuable invisible time together in the bathroom was the way to Heero's heart. Duo smirked at the thought.

Heero ordered coffee at the counter, and Duo ordered tea – which earned him a look.

"Trust me, man, you don't want to be around me when I've had coffee this early in the morning. I reserve my caffeine overloads for Thursdays."

Heero nodded at the explanation and led Duo over to a table in the corner.

"How would you approach this if it was an experiment, or something?" Heero asked Duo.

"Oh, huh. That's a good way to think about it. First off – we should backtrack – think about when we noticed something different, think about what seemed to cause the reaction. It's all cause and effect, you know, on some level. We need to figure out the source, the common denominator."

Heero looked thoughtful.

"Last weekend – what did you do?"

Duo frowned.

"I spent all day Friday passed out and didn't wake up until Saturday afternoon. I think I was sick, from the rain or something. Why?"

"A hunch. The same thing happened to me."

"So what… we were exposed to radioactive rain or something? Wouldn't all of Las Vegas be flying around and turning invisible, too?"

"Radioactive."

"Er, yeah. That's what I just said."

"You made a joke, at the museum, about radiation poisoning."

"Yeah –" Duo suddenly realized where Heero was heading with this. "The museum. Right – so what were we exposed to there? Did you touch any of the same stuff that I did?"

Heero shook his head. He had made it a point to go in the opposite direction from Duo, actually.

"No, what if it isn't just us?"

"What, back to the rain idea?"

"No, what if it was in the theatre? Something we sat on?"

"Or breathed," Duo leaned forward, feeling a tingle of excitement as he pursued the line of thought. "That film, remember? I made the joke about radiation poisoning and that lady looked really pissed. The hot air – that crappy special effect – it burned my nose pretty bad. At the time I thought it was just really hot."

"But it could have had some kind of chemical agent that irritated your nose. Mine too." Heero rubbed his nose at the memory.

"But if it got us – then what about the kids in our class? Have you noticed anything?"

Heero frowned. "Quatre acted strangely yesterday, but… he wasn't floating."

"So how do we find out? We can't just go up and ask people, they'll think we're crazy."

"Maybe we should push them off of buildings," Heero deadpanned.

Duo stared at him in shock.

"Holy shit, Heero, did you just make a joke?"

"Hn."

"Damn, maybe that chemical agent fucked with your brain too."

"Shut up, idiot."

"Or maybe not." Duo ginned as Heero scowled at him.

"So what's the plan?"

"We should just observe, for now. We're in two different groups for the big project – make sure that you meet with them soon."

"And in the meantime?"

"We should work on OUR project."

Duo groaned. "Seriously? We just discovered that we have superpowers and you want to do homework?"

Heero glared.

"Okay, okay. Homework. Gimme a sec to psyche myself up."

"Idiot," Heero muttered again.

* * *

Relena glared at her computer screen in frustration. The blank document page glared right back, white and empty and mocking.

As the senior editor, Relena only wrote one article per issue - and unlike last year, when she had fought tooth and nail to get as many of her articles published as possible, Relena was grateful for the cutback in her writing. She loved it, but there was something about editing the newspaper that fulfilled her – and exhausted her. Having to keep so many people happy required all of her diplomatic skills, as well as her inborn ability to run roughshod over people when she needed to.

It was still only the third week of school, and only the forth issue of the paper, and things were already hectic. She had had several underclassmen haunting the office – begging for positions on the already full staff – and Relena had finally caved and given one of them, Mariemaia Barton, the chance to 

'intern' – meaning that she got to follow around the senior staff members and take notes for them. The girl seemed eager to learn, and Relena often found her in the office on her own way out for the night – typing up notes and working on articles of her own that she would slip under Relena's door, no doubt hoping she could fill in a blank slot one week.

As a junior, it had come as a surprise that Relena as promoted to senior editor, but there really hadn't been any seniors qualified or driven enough to accept it. The job was demanding, and Relena loved every second of it. Except, perhaps, for the last two hours.

She was supposed to writing an article on the upcoming city council elections, and how they would affect the student population at UNLV, but her mind was fixated on two events that had occurred that morning.

Relena's father was a real estate mogul who traveled internationally to look for new investments and spent most of his time abroad. It was one of the reasons Relena had continued to live at home while she attended school – Richard Peacecraft spend three weeks out of every month away from home, and her mother, Sarah, either traveled with him or traveled on her own. Sarah felt that, after remaining at home to supervise Relena's childhood she now deserved the chance to spend her time as she saw fit – which often meant flying to Paris or Milan for fashion shows, or Patagonia to hike a glacier. Sarah was eccentric and Richard was distant – meaning that Relena often got to do whatever she wanted. Except, of course, bend her parents to her will. If her plans overlapped with theirs, it was she who had to make the sacrifice and rearrange to their schedule.

Her twenty-first birthday fell on the second Friday of September – an excellent opportunity for a party with her college aged friends. But to Relena it also meant that it would be a birthday spent without her parents. In the past she would have shrugged it off – but this year was special: she could drink in public, go to casinos, rent cars. It was an important event.

So, that morning, Relena had taken the opportunity to beg them to stay in town for the weekend. It was the rare morning that all three Peacecraft's were in residence, and Relena knew that, if she struck when the moment was right, her parents would cave.

"Mother, Father, I was hoping that this year, for my birthday, we could have a dinner together."

Richard frowned.

"I'm scheduled to be in Macau that weekend, sweetheart. What if we go out the next weekend – when I return?"

"I'll be in Tokyo, then, Richard," Sarah pointed out.

Relena waited for their next idea.

"What about this weekend, then? We're both in town."

"But, Richard, she won't be twenty one for two more weeks."

"So? It's just a date – we can celebrate it now, for all it matters."

Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Richard, twenty one. Drinking, gambling. Clearly, we can't celebrate it early."

"Hm."

Relena drew a deep breath and prepared her argument.

"Father, mother is right. I've been looking forward to this day because it means I'm finally an adult. I know that at home, you have both always treated me with respect and allowed me to experience things that most of my peers haven't gotten the chance to. So it isn't as though I'm excited about my first chance to taste alcohol, but I was excited about the chance to go out with my parents, as an adult. I've been looking forward to the chance to enter into this relationship with both of you – as more than just a dependent. You have always allowed me to be independent, and always valued my opinion on things, but now…" Relena sighed, seeing that neither or her parents were buying it.

"Darling, I understand, really. Why don't you and I go out for your birthday, and then you and Daddy can go out when he gets back from Macau?"

Richard nodded at the suggestion.

"Please. I'd really, really appreciate it." Relena was practically begging – something that had never worked in the past, but she was at her wit's end. Just once – once – she wanted them to be there when she wanted them, and not when it was most convenient for their schedules.

"Well…" Both Richard and Sarah were frowning, eyes distant, as they said the word at the same time.

"I'm sure that I can rearrange my schedule," Richard said, still frowning.

"Oh, Dad! Thank you!" Relena had hopped up and kissed him, a rare show of affection between them.

Richard had patted her hand and then rubbed his head.

"Are you feeling well, Richard?" Sarah asked.

"No – it's so strange, my head started to hurt, just now. I suppose the coffee hasn't kicked in yet!" He joked.

And Relena hadn't thought about the incident anymore.

The other event had occurred when Relena arrived at her first class of the day, Women's Studies, five minutes late. Professor Wyatt was famous for her intolerance of absences and tardiness, but Relena had figured that five minutes would be negligible if she made herself unobtrusive.

However, the moment she opened the door Wyatt attacked.

"Miss Peacecraft! Late for a pop quiz? Hm, I don't think so – out."

"But – I'm only five minutes late!" Relena had whispered furiously, aware that all of the other students had looked up from the quiz and were following the confrontation with interest.

"You know my policies. And I expected better from you, hmph." Wyatt turned around, the matter closed.

"When can I make up the quiz?" Relena had demanded, angry that Wyatt would demean her in front of the class.

"It's a pop quiz, Miss Peacecraft. No one else had the opportunity to study for it – so you cannot make it up. You will take a zero."

Relena did the math in her head – it wouldn't cost her grade too much – but enough that making an A would be difficult.

"But, that is manifestly unfair! We have to wait fifteen minutes if you are late, and you can't extend us a fraction of the same courtesy? And for this class! When for thousands of years women have been punished, and here you are, refusing to –"

"Miss Peacecraft! Your inability to arrive to class on time is hardly the same as the Salem Witch Trials!"

"Please."

Wyatt's face had transformed at that word, her anger and irritation completely vanishing. Instead, she frowned and looked confused. But she waved her hand to an open seat.

"Go ahead, Miss Peacecraft."

The class – and Relena – had been dumbfounded at the acquiescence, but Relena had grabbed the chance and sat down to take the quiz.

As Wyatt handed her the questions Relena looked up to thank her, but Wyatt was still frowning and massaging her head with one hand.

And now, six hours later, Relena was staring at her computer, thoroughly confused at her ability to convince two of the most stubborn people – her father and Wyatt – to change their minds with the use of one word. Please. It had certainly never worked before, on either, for Relena or for anyone else she knew. In fact, Wyatt hated the word and actually delivered an annual lecture of the history and use of the word and the fact that it had been used to 'imprison' women for centuries. In retrospect, Wyatt should have thrown Relena out of the class for even daring to utter that one, hateful word. And yet it had worked like a charm.

"Relena – is there anything I can help you with before I go?"

Relena looked up at Mariemaia. The girl was shorter than Relena, with red hair, blue eyes, and a pixie-look that already had many of the male members of the staff watching her walk past their desks with more interest than was polite. Something that Mariemaia only encouraged by flirting with them and wearing the shortest skirts she could get away with. It frustrated Relena, who despised the idea of having to use her 'feminine wiles' to get ahead – and it was obvious that Mariemaia was doing just that.

Mariemaia's eyes darted to the computer screen and widened.

"Are you having trouble writing your article?" Her voice sounded almost shocked and Relena fought the urge to laugh.

"It's strange, but I just can't get my mind to focus on it today."

"Oh. Er, is there anything I can do?"

"You know, I have an idea. Have you paid much attention to the city council elections coming up?"

Mariemaia nodded, and Relena guessed that she probably kept up with anything that might be newsworthy on the off chance that it would be helpful.

"Then why don't you draft an article – if you can get it to me tomorrow morning I'll edit it. If it's good enough, I'd like to put it in the paper."

"Relena – instead of yours?"

"Sure. I don't have to write, and I know that you've been working hard for this chance. Unless you don't want to?"

"No, I'd love to."

"Great." Relena smiled and Mariemaia smiled in return. Which reminded Relena…

"Mariemaia, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"Sure." The girl sat down across from Relena, crossing her legs and revealing even more of her thighs as the short skirt she wore rode up higher.

"I know that, as a girl, it's a pain around here sometimes. The boys have huge egos, and a lot of the professor are from the old school of things – and so they think we'll be great assistants and that we should write the easy stuff. I had to work hard my first two years here to even get noticed, and it was tough because any of the guys who actually seemed to think I was smart turned out to just want sex." Relena paused, making sure she still had Mariemaia's attention. "And it's tempting to do that – just to shut them up and get some support. But the thing is, that's not how it works. It only makes them value you less. So, you might try just flirting with them, as an alternative, but that's just as bad, and you'll get a 

reputation. What I'm trying to say, Mariemaia, is that I've seen the way you act around the guys, and I don't think it's very professional."

Mariemaia's blue eyes flashed in anger.

"You don't have any right to criticize my behavior! I haven't done anything wrong."

"Not yet, no. But I don't want you to ruin your chances at the paper."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, I'm asking you to reconsider your behavior. Please."

Mariemaia frowned, but nodded.

"Okay. I – okay."

"Are you feeling alright?" Relena was concerned when Mariemaia started to rub her head.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I've just got a headache. Guess I shouldn't argue with the boss, huh?" Mariemaia smiled wryly and left the office. "I'll have an article for you tomorrow," she said over her shoulder.

Relena was left alone – and more troubled than before. Once again, please had worked on someone who seemed unwilling to chance their mind. Relena came from a family that valued polite behavior, so please and thank you were part of her vocabulary, but she had found those words to rarely work on anyone outside of her closest friends and boyfriends.

Add to that the fact that all three people had developed sudden headaches after she had asked them….

Something was definitely up.

* * *

Trowa spent Wednesdays and Fridays on the golf course, in the gym, and in the art studios. He had arranged his schedule so that all of his classes were on Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays – this gave him the chance to workout more often, as well as take three day weekends: meaning he only missed one day of class for any tournaments.

The golf team practiced on Saturdays and Sundays, and Trowa used the extra two days on his own to perfect his game. The fact that he had received a full ride for golf was a source of pride for him, but it was also a burden in some ways: golf was his meal ticket, for the moment, so it was essential that he maintained his game. But the scholarship only covered his tuition. In order to pay for his apartment, food, and books, Trowa had taken out student loans. In order to supplement those he worked as a freelance photographer, mostly doing weddings. Mostly as casino chapels.

Wednesday morning Trowa headed out to the public course near his apartment with trepidation. After the weekend's disaster with weightlifting, Trowa had avoided the gym. He had no idea what had happened, or if he was still effected by them.

He went to the driving range and was thankful for having arrived so early – he was the only one out so far, aside from the mowers.

Cautiously he tried a few practice swings with a driver, gripping the shaft as tightly as possible.

The weight of the head and the force of his stroke carried him forward a few steps. This meant that whatever was wrong with him… was still wrong.

He teed up and decided to test just what the difference was.

His first swing sent the ball out of sight, over the treetops behind the range. Trowa frowned. That… wasn't good.

He tried again, checking his swing at the last second. Even so the ball still disappeared.

So he repeated the process, trying to cut back on the power he put into his stroke until he could control the distance the ball went. After two hours, he hadn't even worked up a sweat. It wasn't as though practicing at the driving range was hard work – but after a while it did affect his muscles, and the heat got to him. Usually. Not today.

Then he had a sudden thought:

Steroids. What if he had somehow been given steroids?

Trowa had no idea what it felt like to be on the drugs, he didn't even know if his symptoms matched those of steroids users. But he had had a strange rash – but he doubted that passing out for thirty-six hours was a side-effect.

As he packed up his clubs and drove towards campus Trowa decided to go to the free clinic over on Sunset, Friday, and get a physical and bloodwork. Even though he had health insurance through the school, he thought it would be best if he kept this separate – if he WAS on steroids, he didn't want that showing up in any files.

Instead of going to the gym Trowa went straight over to the art building and to the wood shop. He was in a sculpture class this semester, and had already been given the first assignment, which consisted of sanding down a 3"x3"x5" block of balsa wood into an organic shape. Sanding he could do – it was boring, mindless work.

He got to the shop just as the classes ended before lunch, leaving the shop blissfully empty except for a few upperclassmen, like Trowa, who usually worked through lunch.

"What's up, Tro?" It was Dave, an MFA sculpture student who ran the wood-shop as part of his assistantship.

"Not much, just came to sand."

"Ah, cool. Remember – the block already holds it's own form. All you have to do is find it." Dave waggled his eyebrows and Trowa nodded sagely.

The only other person in the shop was Duo Maxwell, and Trowa nodded a greeting in his direction.

Duo was an Entertainment and Engineering student and his major required that he take several art courses, and he had become a fixture in the wood and metal shops over the years. Trowa had always been on good terms with him – Duo greeted him and left him alone, unless they had to share tools or workspace; even then Duo was somewhat more reserved than he had proven to be in their Community group. Duo seemed to understand that Trowa didn't come to the shop for conversation.

Today, however, Duo shifted his project over to the table that Trowa sat down at. Whatever he was working on involved fur, a cactus, and a motor. Trowa was curious, but he kept silent and pulled out his box of sandpaper and selected the coarsest grit.

"How's it going, man? Haven't seen you in here yet this semester."

Trowa shrugged. "Not much to work on yet."

"Yeah, I know whatcha mean. I meant to come in here last weekend, but I mustava hadthe flu or something. I spent all day Friday and most of Saturday in bed."

Trowa wondered why Duo was trying to hold a conversation – it was a complete break with their tradition. Then he thought about what Duo had just said.

"Me too," he confessed.

"Weird, huh? Heero said that he and Quatre were laid up too – not together, you know."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"Er, yeah. Anyway. Weird, though, right? All four of us getting sick – and it only lasting for a day or so?"

Trowa nodded, thinking.

"Fuck!" Duo dropped the wires he was twisting around the motor as they sparked and shocked him.

"What are you working on?" Trowa asked, his curiosity finally getting the better of him.

"This – it's the Cat Cactus."

Trowa waited for Duo to elaborate.

"Okay, let me give you the whole thing. It's basically a practical joke. So, you know how busy your day is? You know how it never seems like you have the chance to find pleasure in your day? Well, we at GE understand that. That's why we put aromatherapy in your dish soap – so you can relax while you do your dishes. So our next step is to give you the Cat Cactus. It combines the pleasure of petting a cat with the ease of caring for a cactus."

Trowa arched an eyebrow in amusement.

"Oh yeah. So, basically, I put four motion sensors on the cactus, here, here, here, and here," Duo gestured to the spines of the cactus. "Then I've got his neoprene with fake fur glued to it. I put that over the sensors, wire it all together with a motor in the base – and when you pet it it purrs. Wicked cool, huh?"

"Not bad. Crazy."

"Like me."

"I still prefer the Cat Claw you made last year."

"Yeah, that WAS cool," Duo agreed. "What about you – what's the block for?"

"Organic object. I've got to sand it into…. Something."

Duo nodded thoughtfully and took the block out of Trowa's hands.

Normally Trowa would be irritated at the interruption, but he was fascinated by the way Duo turned the block over and examined it.

"Check out the grain, right here, how it sort of swirls around the corner? That's pretty cool." Duo ran his finger along the grain, and Trowa found himself nodding in agreement and looking over the rest of the block, searching for more interesting lines. "And here, this bird's eye – that's special, in this kind of wood." Duo suddenly turned red. "Sorry, I ah, I knew a carpenter – and he used to talk about wood a lot. Here, here's your block back."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, sorry for taking it."

"No, thanks for looking at it. I hadn't really considered the grain before."

"Oh. Cool. Happy to help." Duo smiled at him and Trowa found himself smiling back.

"Hey, we should get together with the rest of our group and decide on a project – for Community," Duo said after a few minutes of working silently.

Trowa nodded in agreement. "Tomorrow we should talk to the others."

Duo finished wiring the cactus and pushed it towards Trowa.

"Go ahead. Try it."

Cautiously Trowa reached out and ran his hand down one fur covered spine. Immediately the cactus started to gyrate and the sound of the motor resembled a cat's purr.

Duo laughed and even Trowa smiled.

"Wicked," he agreed, using Duo's word.

"Thanks. Hey, you know, we should get together sometime, too."

Trowa drew his hand away from the cactus and looked Duo in confusion.

"Um, well, what I mean is – we could go out, play pool, catch a movie, or go bowling, or get dinner. Or, ah, some combination of those."

"Are you asking me on a date?"

Duo's face flushed.

"Well, um, yeah?"

Trowa frowned. While his sexual preference wasn't a secret, he didn't think that it was common knowledge. He knew the golf team, and most of the other athletes he hung out with, thought he was straight. He wasn't sure what their reaction would be if they knew he was gay.

Duo wasn't a friend, was little more than an acquaintance. Trowa had never considered him as someone he could date – they didn't speak much, and while their few conversations were good, Duo's personality was far more outgoing that Trowa's.

"Look, if you aren't interested, it's cool. Um, shit, you –" Duo's eyes had gone wide. "Please tell me you're gay, or at least bi. If you're straight then I'm sorry, really, I –"

"Shut up for a second," Trowa said. Duo instantly closed his mouth.

"When?"

"Huh?"

"When do you want to do this marathon date thing?"

"Um, we don't really have to do ALL of that at once. Unless you want to – Christ I'm babbling like an idiot."

"How long have you wanted to ask me out?" Trowa asked, interested in this new, flustered Duo.

"Erm, since that kid dumped paint all over you last year and you took off your shirt."

"So you just want me for my body?" Trowa was only partially teasing.

"No, no. I mean, that caught my eye, I'll be honest. I mean, you KNOW that you're hot. But it was your tattoo – the infinity sign? That made me think that you weren't just some dumb jock after all."

"Because all dumb jocks minor in Art History."

"Look, I'm just SAYING that I liked your tat. And then I started talking to you more, after that. Not a lot, cus, lemme break it to you, you're not much of a conversationalist unless you feel like it."

Trowa felt his lips twitch into a smile.

"So you've waited a year to ask me out?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"That explains the marathon, then."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Look, man –"

"Dinner and a movie."

Duo blinked in surprise.

"Cool. Um, Friday's my night off – do you already have plans?"

"No. Sounds good."

Duo grinned and pulled out his cell phone.

"Mind if I get your number? I'll call you and let you know movie times."

Trowa exchanged his number for Duo's. The braided man grinned again and Trowa found himself shaking his head in amusement.

Students started to wander in for their afternoon classes and the two packed up their projects. Just as Duo was about to leave, Trowa stopped him.

"You're not so bad looking yourself, you know."

Duo gave him a cocky grin.

"I know." He saluted Trowa with two fingers and took off for the other side of campus. "See ya tomorrow!"

* * *

TBC…

A/N: And no, Duo isn't the only one with two powers – Trowa kind of has two, and Quatre WILL, and Heero, well, you'll see. And Wufei…. I dunno, does the ability to piss off the world and go from zero to angry in six seconds count as a superpower?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Wow, thanks for all the great reviews! I'm really happy that more people are finding this fic and giving it a try.

Also: NOT the best chapter, but I needed to cover some ground. We'll have some definite drama coming up NEXT chapter.

* * *

1.5: The Other Shoe

Zechs arrived on time to his Thursday class and was perversely pleased with the shocked expressions on his students faces. Cultivating the impression of being a bit distracted and absent-minded was difficult for Zechs – he was punctual to a fault in reality. But he knew that he had to seem approachable if he wanted the students to trust him.

It was a week after the initial exposure, surely long enough for the students to have noticed changes in their bodies and behaviors.

As he surveyed the class, however, Zechs was disappointed to see how… normal they all looked.

"Alright, I'm going to split the class into two parts today. For the first half we'll discuss the readings, for the second half I'd like you to split into your large groups and start brainstorming ideas for your project. I won't normally let you meet in class, but I'd like to sit in and hear your first thoughts so that I can help guide you in a good direction."

"So," Zechs leaned back against his desk at the front of the room and surveyed the students, "what are your thoughts on communism?"

Predictably, Wufei was the first to speak up.

"Obviously, it's impractical. Humanity simply isn't capable of that kind of commitment to each other."

"What do you mean, 'commitment'?" Hilde demanded.

"I was obviously referring to the fact that humanity is too selfish to make the necessary sacrifices to sustain that form of society."

"I think you're wrong about that," Quatre said. Zechs turned his attention to the blonde heir to the Winner fortune. Romafeller was particularly interested in HIS potentiall, and in their ability to control such a valuable asset. Zechs would have to work on befriending him soon.

"Humanity does have the capacity to make those sacrifices – we make them every day to for the ones that we love."

Wufei sneered.

"So you want us to all love our fellow man – And that will solve all the problems with the world? Would love be able to LOVE a man who murdered your father? Would you be able to make the sacrifices necessary to sustain his life? To allow him to live in a communist utopia alongside you?"

It was an interesting question – but Zechs was more interested in Heero Yuy's response, than in anything that Quatre could have said.

"Heero, what do you think?"

The man frowned, obviously not anticipating that Zechs would call on him at random. It wasn't random, however. Zechs had memorized Heero's dossier over the weekend, and he had been… surprised, to say the least. He knew he was playing with fire for even asking Heero, but he couldn't resist.

"I think the question is completely irrelevant. A communist society would certainly allow for the creation of a jury of peers to restrict order for society, and anyone who committed acts against the collective would be punished accordingly. The entire point of communism is the value of the community over the individual."

"Right on," Duo spoke up from the back, earning a chuckle from most of the class and breaking the tension that had settled over them all when Wufei had asked his question.

Heero looked at Zechs with sharp, dark eyes, and Zechs had the uncanny feeling that he had been found out. He nodded at Heero, trying to project the image of himself as being nonthreatening.

"I'm more interested in how you could actually create a functioning communist society," Dorothy said. "Quatre might be right that the key is _love_, but Wufei is also right- humanity is simply too selfish."

"Duh. Self emancipation." Duo, feet propped up on his desk in the back, grinned as most of the class turned to look at him. Zechs fought the urge to roll his eyes at the boys' performance. Duo was clearly a brilliant student – but he hid it well under his comic veneer. Zechs wondered, idly, if Duo would even know what to do with his new abilities.

"Right. Because that worked really well for the Soviets, and the Chinese." This dry comment came from Trowa.

"They didn't do it right. They ignored the 'self' part of that."

"Enlighten us, then," Wufei sneered.

"Well it's _obvious,_" Duo paused and smirked at Wufei, " that I was referring to the fact that for communism to work, you have to establish a society based on the fact that everyone in it has chosen that way of life – for themselves. Not a group choosing it for everyone else, then it's just another oligarchy. So what I'm saying is that the Soviets and the Chinese didn't help their fellow, um, comrades, realize their freedom –they forced it upon them. Hence, their failure."

Wufei looked momentarily defeated by Duo's explanation.

"So, we all have to realize we love each other, and then we get to live happily ever after," Dorothy summed up.

"Yeah, sure thing," Duo replied, completely uninterested.

"So what about marriage?" Meilin asked. Zechs looked at her: it was one of the first times she had spoken in the class. He knew that she valued her atheism over her grades – although she maintained a solid 'B' average. He also knew that she hadn't been swimming at the university pool since last Thursday.

"What do you mean?" Relena asked, finally joining the conversation.

"Well, if you're committing to the collective, then why would you commit to an individual? I mean, would there just be harems? How would you raise kids?"

"Obviously with _love_," Wufei said.

"Obviously," Duo agreed. Zechs started to get the feeling that those two were going to be trouble – for each other. Which could only help him in the long run. He decided to allow them to continue their bickering.

"Don't you have anything intelligent to contribute?" Wufei demanded.

"Don't you? Are you just going to sit there and shoot down everyone else's ideas, or will you deign to share your own brilliant perspective with us at some point in the next decade?"

Zechs blinked. He wondered if those two had had some sort of run in outside of his class. His records showed that the two had never taken a class together before this one, but he also knew that Wufei was a well-known figure on campus.

"What is your problem?" Wufei demanded.

"My problem –"

"So, maybe the education could work like in Plato's Republic," Quatre interrupted loudly, sending Zechs a pleading look.

"Huh?" Duo was startled out of his comeback.

"You know, how children are merely the product of a physical union, and then raised by the collective."

"Wait, wait, wait. Doesn't Plato also suggest that there are three classes of people?" Relena interjected.

"Well, yes, but –"

Zechs allowed the two students to debate that point and continued his survey of the class, searching for signs that they had been affected by their exposure.

Catherine Bloom was clearly experiencing some sort of distress. She kept adjusting her seat and shooting glances at her classmates, as if she too were searching for something in them. Zechs frowned, trying to remember her profile. Ordinary, one of the control elements. She had no distinct past experiences, and her academic career was average – she wanted to be a professional dancer and performer. Zechs had balked at having her in his group, at first, but he could understand the importance of having someone as inconspicuous as her.

He caught Dorothy's eye and signaled towards Catherine. The blonde girl frowned and shrugged, clearly disagreeing with Zechs assessment, but willing to follow orders.

Relena seemed subdued –and for her that was a dangerous thing.

Not for the first time, Zechs wished that they had developed a way to predict how the abilities would manifest. It would be considerably easier to discover who was affected if he knew what to look for.

"Alright, that was excellent. Go ahead and break into groups and begin discussing ideas." Quatre and Relena frowned at him, and Zechs realized he might have interrupted their debate mid-sentence. He shrugged it off. After a moment of obvious reluctance, the students moved into their groups. Zechs drifted over towards Heero's group first.

"So, according to the syllabus we need to develop a proposal to implement some infrastructure change that will effect the global community," Quatre summarized. "We need to be careful, I guess, not to overlap too much with our other projects."

"So, what are we doing, coming up with a proposal for revolution?" The question was directed at Zehcs, and he shrugged.

"If you want. It's open ended. I want you to develop a project that will have some dramatic change on the way we interact as a global community. That can be a revolution – it can be a new type of global government, it can be a new language. Whatever you think would work well."

"But don't use the revolution idea," Duo called out, "I've totally already got dibs on that."

Heero rolled his eyes. "Pay attention to your own work," he said.

Duo grinned and turned back to his own group.

"I think we should all spend some time researching global agencies," Relena said.

"Such as?" Meilin asked.

"Well, if we want to think about creating, say, a new global emissions council, then we would need to research existing organizations and see how we could adapt those. Or if we wanted new, global gun control, we'd need to look at that."

"Makes sense," Dorothy said. "So what are we each going to research? It would be a complete waste of time if we all did the same stuff."

"What are your interests?" Quatre asked and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Each of us will research an are that appeals to us, and then we'll meet again and try to sell our idea on the group. Maybe we'll wind up with some combination of ideas."

Relena nodded her approval and Zechs moved to the other group as they started listing research topics.

"… invest in nuclear research," Wufei was saying.

Hilde rolled her eyes.

"Seriously, Wufei, that doesn't even make any sense. Nuclear research is an incredibly valuable commodity."

"I thought you were the environmental science major – don't you know what that does to the environment?"

"Yeah, if it isn't disposed of properly, then the process is harmful. Just like EVERYTHING ELSE."

"We should probably stop fighting and try to accomplish something," Catherine said.

Duo shrugged.

"I dunno, watching these two go at it is pretty entertaining."

"Maxwell –"

"Chang."

Hilde rolled her eyes.

"Boys are so stupid. Anyway, maybe we won't look at nuclear research."

"I dunno. I mean, we've got that museum right around the block, it'd be handy, you know, for researching previous experiments."

"Yes, in Nevada. This project is on the global community," Wufei pointed out, and Zechs released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He did not need these students snooping around the museum.

"What about… what if we change ourselves?" Duo suggested.

"How?" Trowa asked. "Glue on fur and motion sensors?"

"Haha. Only if you want me to pet you." Duo waggled his eyebrows, earning a smirk from Trowa. The rest of the group, and Zechs, stared at them in confusion.

"No, no. I mean, all that stuff with self-emancipation and communism. So, like _Chang_ was saying, people are too selfish. So what if we change that?"

"What, like re-education?"

Duo shrugged. "Yeah, or modified behavior, or something."

"Genetic manipulation?" Hilde suggested. "Like with Zechs research, with the cellular manipulation for photosynthesis. Well, what if humans were manipulated into being less aggressive, or more nurturing, or something?"

"That sounds like a bad idea," Catherine said.

"It sounds pretty far from self-emancipation, too," Wufei added.

"Yeah, but it also sounds cool," Duo said, looking over his shoulder at Heero. Zechs frowned at the look they exchanged, and at the direction this project was taking.

"I would suggest doing some extensive research, if you want to pursue this," he interjected. "The laws you would need to change, for one, would be incredibly numerous."

"And then there's everything else – like figuring out how people will react, if they would choose to do it, and all that jazz." Duo looked thoughtful and then shrugged. "Just an idea."

"I think we should research this more, over the weekend, and meet on Sunday," Catherine said.

"I can get us some free pizza if you want to meet at Metro, for lunch," Duo put in.

Zechs listened to them set up their plans and then dismissed them, wondering if Duo knew. Or if Heero had guessed that Zechs might be onto him. He would have to walk a dangerous line around them, in the future.

* * *

It was nearly ten , and Meilin was missing out on a party just to study for her first biology exam, still two weeks away.

She groaned in frustration and pushed the enormous text book away and glared down at her notes. She hated studying, she hated biology, and she despised the library. The smell of it always left her feeling vaguely nauseous, and having to sit still for hours on end always left her feeling anxious. Still, her only option was to study here – her dorm room was on the 'party hall', so dubbed by the freshmen who wandered the hall on the weekend, begging for beer and invitations to parties. It was too easy to get distracted, in her room, because at any time her friends might come over, or call. And Meilin, as much as she hated to study, knew that she could do so in peace in the library.

She leaned her head down on the table and closed her eyes. It wasn't that schoolwork was difficult for her – but she didn't have the interest in it. Her parents expected her to be a straight-A student, and all Meilin managed to give them was, at best, a 3.5 GPA. It had been a constant source of frustration for them, expecially since Wufei Chang, grandson of Meiline's grandfather's business partner back in China, sixty years ago, managed to pull off the Dean's List with ease, every semester. The fact that Meilin was a championship swimmer who had been a stand-by for the Olympic qualifiers didn't even compare. Sports weren't for women to engage in – Meilin should study and become a doctor. Or a lawyer. So she had compromised with sports medicine. She could go on to med school, if she wanted, or she could try again to be a swimmer –which she wanted. The only question was whether or not she would be able to survive the guilt trip her parents would give her over the decision.

Shaking her head as she imagine her mother's furious, grief filled voice telling Meilin that she was trying to 'kill' her by breaking her heart, Meilin grabbed her bottle of water and took a sip. It just made her so angry, sometimes, when she thought about how controlling her mother was. Meilin understood that, on some level, her mother was trying to make sure that Meilin had a better life – a more independent life than she had had. But Meilin didn't want the want the same fairytale that her mother did. She didn't want to sit behind a desk, or cut people open. She wanted to swim. She wanted to compete. She wanted –

Her bottle of water felt like ice, and Meilin looked at it. And then dropped it. It WAS ice. And it hadn't been a moment ago. She groaned in frustration. And now there was THAT situation to deal with.

Over the weekend she had discovered that, somehow, for some reason, she turned liquids to ice. So far it only happened when she was angry, and Meilin was trying her hardest to ignore it and make it go away – but it was hard to do, especially when she had taken a shower this morning, in a rush to get to school on time, and found herself covered in icicles. She hadn't even thought about going for a swim, because she was too afraid of what would happen.

"You turned that water into ice."

Meilin looked up in fear.

Wufei stood before her, books in hand, glasses firmly perched on his arrogant face, scowling at her.

"No I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I watched it happen."

"What, are you stalking me now, Chang?"

His face flushed in anger.

"Don't try to change the subject. I saw you do that."

"Yeah, so?" Meilin figured it was useless to argue with him. Having grown up with him, and been constantly compared to him her entire life, Meilin knew that he wouldn't give up.

"How long have you been able to do that?"

She frowned, not having anticipated his interest.

"Since this weekend. Look, if you're gonna tell –"

"I'm not going to tell anyone. Keep your voice down." Wufei glared at her and sat down, uninvited, at her table.

"Then go away and leave me alone," she didn't want him involved with this – or with her.

He scowled, but instead of a cutting retort, or following her order, he held out his hand.

"Can I have a sheet of paper?"

Meilin ripped a page out of her spiral notebook, grinning in satisfaction at his look of irritation.

He took the paper and scowled at it.

For a full minute.

"Um, Chang, what the hell –"

In the center of the paper, a small hole appeared. It grew steadily larger, the edges turning black and crisp until the whole sheet burst into flame.

"Shit, Chang, you're going to burn down the library!" Meilin grabbed her bottle of frozen water and slammed the paper down, rolling the bottle over the fire in an attempt to put it out.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded.

Wufei shrugged.

"I'm not sure. It first happened on Monday."

"So… you can start stuff on fire just by looking at it?"

He nodded.

"And I can freeze water just by being angry."

He smirked.

"I'm sure you could learn to control it. Well, I learned to control it, anyway."

She glared at him.

"So what now? What does it matter?"

He frowned.

"Now we figure out what happened to us."

"How about we just pretend this never happened? I like that plan better."

"Why? You really don't want to know why this happened? You don't want to figure out what we can do with this?"

"No, I don't. Look, you win, again. Okay? You care about your new… superpower or whatever. I don't. I just want to pretend it doesn't exist and I want to go on and be normal. I don't want to be you. Okay? You win, you're the scholar, good for you. Now leave me the hell alone."

Wufei blinked.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"All my freaking live I've been compared to you, the great Chang Wufei. Well, screw you, anyone can memorize books. Can you swim a 57 second 100 meter freestyle? No, you can't. So I don't care that you can go to any grad school you want to – I don't care that your parents and mine both think that you're some, paragon of virtue and genius. And I don't care that you can control your whole fire thing. So fuck off."

Meiline realized she was breathing heavily and sat back in her chair. She had wanted to say that to him for YEARS. Wufei was staring at her, face entirely blank, eyes dark behind his glasses.

"How has swimming been for you?" Wufei asked, standing up and getting his books. "I imagine the water is pretty cold." And he walked off, leaving her glaring after him. And he had won yet again.

* * *

Treize Khushrenada eased himself into his bath tub to enjoy his once a week soak. He called it a soak, because any grown man who admitted to having a 'bubble bath' should be taken out and shot. The fact that it was a rose scented bubble bath, or soak, was even worse. But it was one of the few pleasures Treize allowed himself to indulge in.

And after this week, he needed it.

Work was not progressing according to plan. Romafeller was furious at the lack of results from Group 13, and the fact that Subject X was still suffering his 'attacks' was a source of aggrevation.

As the scientist leading the project, Trieze knew that every failure was his responsibility, and every success was because of Romafeller's brilliance. It was the way of the world, and Treize was getting fed up with it. Romafeller had rushed things for Group 13, and Treize was positive that if they had laid more groundwork, those subjects would be responding better.

Group 3 was scheduled for next week, and Treize was confident that things would go better for them. Unfortunately, Heero Yuy wasn't in Group 3, he was in Group 13, and Odin Lowe had invested a lot of money into this project so that his son would the on of Romafeller's brilliant success, and not one of Treize's failures.

"Enjoying your bath?"

Treize looked up to see Zechs leaning in the bathroom doorway, completely naked and holding two glasses of champagane.

"I thought you weren't going to come over tonight," Treize said.

Zechs shrugged and walked over to the bath.

"Romafeller called again. He's not happy with the progress."

Treize snorted a laugh and accepted the glass of champagne. He allowed his eyes to wander over Zechs' body, enjoying the moment.

Zechs' lips twitched into a smile.

"Like what you see?"

"You know I do. Join me?"

Zechs climbed into the tub gracefully and sat across from Treize, knees raised and feet resting on either side of Treize's hips.

"I still can't believe you enjoy rose scented bubble baths."

"Soaks," Treize corrected him.

"Soaks. Whatever. I think Heero Yuy knows something."

"That's good – it's means there's something for him to know."

Zechs nodded and was silent for a moment.

"How is X doing?"

"Still having the …episodes."

"Is there any way to control it?"

"I don't know. That was the entire reason I proposed testing on younger subjects. They are better able to adapt, and control the changes. But someone who is almost fifty – it's entirely different."

"What about someone who is twenty-seven?"

"I don't understand why you want this," Treize said. It was a source of contention between them.

"I don't understand why you DON'T."

"I'm content to be the mastermind and the creator of all this. I don't want the powers for myself."

"I do," Zechs mused, staring at the bubbles moodily. "If people like X can have it – I need it. I can understand and study it. He… he just sees it as another tool."

"And you see it as what?"

Zechs scowled.

"You aren't my mentor anymore, enough of the Socratic questioning. Dorothy seems to be progressing well."

"Yes, she is," Treize agreed.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long until I can be treated?"

"Zechs."

"Treize. I know the risks. I'm a scientist, a damn good one. I want this."

Romafeller had given Treize strict instructions to hold off from treating Zechs. He wanted the professor to be an inside man, and he wanted him to be controllable. Treize agreed with the last part – if 

Zechs were free to act on his own, with the power the power to do so – he would. At the same time, this was Zechs, his partner for the last three years in research and in bed. He deserved more than to be manipulated by Romafeller.

"I'll bring some home, tomorrow. You can have the weekend to recover. Tell no one."

Treize leaned back and closed his eyes, silent.

"I'm not going to thank you for this. It isn't a reward for anything. I deserve it."

"I know. Be careful."

TBC…

* * *

A/N: So Meilin might seem a bit OOC - but I think she isn't, not really. She's still competeing with Wufei, just not on the terms that everyone else wants. Maybe, I dunno. Also, I realize that Treize is a little... hm. Yeah, a little 'hm.' We'll see what I can do about that.


	7. Chapter 7

See the first chapter for warnings.

A/N: A sort of retraction: some of you might have noticed that last chapter I decided to make Treize a scientist in Romafeller, but in chapter 2 he was introduced as being the president of the company. So let's just pretend that I said he was the 'head of the research department' instead of the president. Because that was a mistake.

Read and Review – and it'll make me happy, AND it'll make me write faster!

* * *

1.6: First Dates

Catherine nervously glanced around the waiting room. It was filled with the sorts of people Catherine had expected to find at a free clinic on a Friday morning – mothers with sick children, vagrants, and a few elderly couples who looked to be on their last breath. In comparison, Catherine felt like royalty. She was clean, she was well dressed, well fed, and healthy. Except for that one thing. The freak thing. The thing that gave her panic attacks when she even looked at a mirror. That one thing.

She started tapping her nails against the strap of her backpack.

That 'one thing' that had led to her roommates suggesting she get psychiatric help when they found her staring at the mirror for over an hour, after having woken them all up at five in the morning by screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming because she had stared in the mirror and seen not her face, but the face of a middle-aged woman at least forty pounds over weight. And the face had had a body to match – and it hadn't existed in just the mirror.

Catherine had thought she was hallucinating, especially after she started screaming, and then looked in the mirror again to see that she was looking at herself – her real self.

But later that day she had been staring at her nails, debating what color polish to buy, and wondering if blue would be too flashy – and suddenly her nails WERE blue; and it WAS way too flashy.

A few more incidents like the first two had followed, and Catherine had decided o go to the clinic. She wasn't sure what they could test her for – she still wasn't entirely convinced that 

she wasn't crazy – but she knew that going through the University health center was a very bad idea.

And so now she was sitting in the clinic, waiting for more than an hour, surrounded by people she had never met, and would never meet again. It was the ideal situation.

Until Trowa Barton walked in the door.

Catherine tried to sink back and almost tried to change her appearance, but before she could Trowa's sharp eyes landed on her. His mouth tightened, but he nodded to her. Catherine managed a weak smile in return.

Trowa collected the paperwork from the front desk and came to sit down beside her.

"Hey, Trowa. Are you feeling okay?"

He frowned slightly and started to work on the forms.

"I'm okay. Just a check-up."

"Oh. Don't you have insurance with the school? For your scholarship?"

"Don't you?" He didn't even look up from the papers, and Catherine felt like bashing her head against the wall in frustration.

Once, three years ago, they had been able to hold conversations –well, Trowa had allowed Catherine to talk AT him with a lot more restraint than he was showing now. But clearly that time was long past.

"I haven't really seen you around much – outside of class – lately."

Predictably Trowa didn't respond.

Three years ago he had been enrolled in a photography course and decided to take pictures of some of the dancers, for one assignment. Catherine had volunteered immediately after seeing him – he was, after all, completely gorgeous and somewhat well known after his victory the previous year at the Futures tournament in San Diego. They had hit it off – or, at least, Trowa had agreed to go out with Catherine on several dates after that. Over the course of a month their relationship had progressed to the point that Catherine invited Trowa over to her apartment for the night. Up to that point, Trowa had kissed her, fondle her a bit, but never pushed for anything more. It was always Catherine forging ahead, and that night she had meant to forge to the end – and she had, but not the end she had had in mind. In retrospect, it probably hadn't been a good idea to excuse herself to the bathroom and come back completely naked. The deer-in-headlights look on Trowa's face would forever be branded in Catherine's memory, as would Trowa's confession that, while he thought Catherine was 'beautiful, and nice, and bossy as hell', he preferred guys.

For a few weeks after that they had talked – gone out to movies – and then slowly drifted back into their own circles. But Catherine thought of him often, and wondered how he was doing with his 'preferences' these days.

"Seeing anyone?"

That got a reaction out of him. He looked up at her quickly, and then looked back at his papers.

"Catherine."

"Trowa. I'm just trying to be friendly. Trust me, I've learned my lesson. I won't try to jump your bones again any time soon."

"Jesus, Cathy, you put me in a corner."

"I'm sorry. I've said it before. It was a mistake." She rolled her eyes. Trowa wasn't just quiet, he was also shy, and, she secretly thought, a bit of a prude.

"So, are you?"

Now Trowa rolled his eyes. He stood up and turned in his forms, when he returned he was smiling slightly.

"I've got a date tonight."

"Oh? Anyone I know? Is he hot?"

"Looks aren't everything, Cathy."

"Trowa, I'm a dancer. Looks are everything."

He smiled at that, remembering, perhaps, how happy she was when that had gone out together and been complimented on being the most attractive couple at an event.

"He's not bad looking," Trowa allowed. After a moment he added. "He's pretty hot, in a California kind of way."

"A California kind of way? What, he looks like Duo Maxwell?"

Trowa shrugged noncommittally.

"Oh my god, you're going on a date with Duo Maxwell?"

He glared at her and she lowered her voice.

"I thought you didn't like bossy people," she said.

"He's not – Cathy."

"I'm just teasing. Lighten up."

"Catherine Bloom," a female doctor in a white lab coat called out her name.

"Well, that's me. I'll see you around. Good luck on your date."

Trowa gave her a good-natured glare and Catherine laughed.

She followed the doctor back into an exam room.

"Well, Catherine, what brings you in today?"

The doctor, an attractive blonde woman, wore an open, friendly smile.

"Um, even though this is a free clinic, there's still patient confidentiality, right?"

Now the doctor frowned slightly. Catherine looked at her name tag.

"Um, right, Dr. Winner?"

"Yes, of course there is. Now, what seems to be the problem?"

Catherine drew in a deep breath and concentrated on changing her appearance. She thought about being blonde, blue eyed, and petite, like the woman across from her.

Dr. Winner gasped and Catherine smirked slightly.

"Yeah, um, I'm not sure WHAT the problem is, but this last week, I've been able to change my appearance."

"Wow."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Is there anything you can do – um, try to figure out what's wrong with me?"

Dr. Winner frowned again and then shook her head. She drew in a deep breath and seemed to regain her air of open, friendly professionalism.

"Well, I'm not really sure what I can test for. To start off, let's do some blood work – I want a workup of you when you're, well, YOU, and some of when you take on someone else's appearance. Also I'm going to take a tissue sample, and see if there is anything irregular in the cellular structure. Maybe a bone marrow sample as well? Okay, let me go and get some things and I'll be right back."

She paused and reached out to touch Catherine's hand.

"Catherine, I promise, this will remain confidential, but this is truly extraordinary. I'm not sure if I'll be able to help you find out what happened."

"Okay, I understand. I just thought – it's worth a try, right? And really, I came to make sure that I wasn't crazy, that this was really happening."

"Oh, it's happening. And if you're crazy, then so am I. I'll be right back."

And, for the first time in a week, Catherine felt the edge of anxiety ease back and was able to breath again. She might be different, but the doctor wasn't treating her like a freak. Not like some sideshow at a circus. Which meant that Catherine might be able to tell her friends – if a total stranger could accept her situation, then surely her roommates could too?

Catherine shook her head. Not likely. Even if her friends accepted the fact that, miraculously, Catherine could change her appearance at will, they would demand she do it for their amusement. She would become a freak.

* * *

Quatre discarded his traditional Sunday uniform of khaki's and white button up and instead pulled out a pain of tight, sand washed jeans and a pink rugby shirt. He smiled grimly and debated whether or not he should put on mascara, then decided that was going a bit far.

He knew his father would be angry enough that Quatre showed up in pink, but, in Quatre's mind, bringing Relena to a family dinner was more than enough to balance out that minor sin. Relena.

That had been an awkward conversation, and Quatre had not been at his most charming, but Relena had laughed and accepted the invitation to dinner. She had even joked that it would be excellent for her expose on him. Quatre had sensed genuine good will from her, and after only a slight, terrified pause, he had laughed at the joke.

And now it was Sunday, and he was due to pick her up in twenty minutes.

Quatre looked at himself in the mirror again and, smirking, popped the collar on his shirt. Oh yeah, his father would _love_ this look.

Relena was waiting in the foyer of her parent's home, looking very presentable in a lavender sundress that hinted at a slim, curved body without broadcasting the fact that she was thin and attractive. It was prefect attire for meeting someone's parents – classy, but not prissy. Quatre had to smile at his line of thought. If he kept this up, he was likely to start critiquing his sisters' sense of fashion at dinner – and that WOULD set his father off.

"You look wonderful," he said to her. She smiled at the compliment.

"You look nice too. I love it when boys have the confidence to wear popped collars. It's soo Edwardian."

Quatre couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but she smiled again and he laughed politely. He opened the back door of the car for her and she joined him in the backseat. She arched an eyebrow at the driver in the front.

"You don't drive yourself around?"

"Not to the family house. Father always sends a car. He probably thinks I wouldn't come otherwise."

Relena frowned.

"I think it's wonderful that you have dinner with your family every week."

"Yes. It's great to catch up with my sisters." It certainly wasn't great in Quatre's mind, but he knew it wasn't polite to ague with your date – and he WAS charming when he wanted to be. Or needed to be, as the case was.

"So, Quatre, not that you aren't cute and sweet and everything, but why the sudden interest in asking me over to meet your Dad? I mean, it's sort of weird timing, because last week my father was telling me that he and your father are looking to invest in some property over in Macau – and then YOU ask me out."

"My father mentioned the same thing to me," Quatre admitted, "and then he said something about it being such a shame that your father had such a plain daughter – how she didn't compare to his OWN daughters. And then I defended your honor – and your beauty – by saying that you were the most beautiful girl on campus, not to mention the smartest and most driven. So he told me to prove it, and I said I would. Well, that YOU would, actually."

Relena blushed, then laughed and hit his arm playfully.

"Stop it. That never happened."

"Hm, maybe not. It doesn't change the fact that you ARE the most beautiful girl on campus."

"But not the smartest and most driven?"

"Fishing for compliments?" He teased.

"Hardly," she tossed her hair over her shoulder and shot him her most pompous look. "I'm just sizing you up so that I can figure out the easiest way to manipulate you."

Strangely, Quatre sensed that she really WAS doing that.

_Too bad he's gay. He really is cute_.

Quatre wanted to roll his eyes at her thought.

"I'm not gay."

"What?!" Relena looked panicked, and Quatre felt his own surge of panic.

_Shit, shit, shit._

"I know that look," he said, trying to keep his voice calm and even, not believing how stupid that had been.

"What look?"

"That look – that 'oh, he's so cute and sweet but so obviously gay' look."

Relena blushed again and Quatre allowed himself to relax as her panic turned to embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I just – really, you aren't gay?"

Quatre frowned slightly and debated with himself how honest he should be with her.

"I might be," he allowed, eventually, after checking to make sure the driver was absorbed in the sports broadcast on the radio.

Relena arched one eyebrow, and Quatre imagined that she was taking metal notes of all this.

"You might be?" She repeated.

"Maybe. I don't really have much evidence one way or the other."

"Huh. What – I mean – what kind of evidence?"

"Well, take you. I think you're pretty. And when you aren't insulting my manhood, I like to talk to you. And we were having a pretty good time flirting, just now, before you ruined it." He smiled, making it clear he was teasing her, and she returned the smile with one of her own. "But sometimes I look at guys, and I think they're attractive. I just don't have much… physical evidence to go on."

"Oh. So you've never kissed a boy?"

"I didn't say I was completely innocent, Relena."

"So you've had sex with a boy?"

Quatre rolled his eyes.

"Is this really first date conversation material? I'm not asking you about YOUR sexual conquests."

"That's because you're a gentleman." Relena smiled at him and then squeezed his hand.

"I'll lay off with the interrogation, for now. But you can't just admit something like that and expect ME not to question you about it."

"Yes, I realize that now," he groused.

She leaned over, quite unexpectedly, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Quatre had no warning – not even from her own mind – and so he sat in shock for a moment before he remembered that it was polite to reciprocate such a gesture. He kissed her back and , as she pulled away, felt bold enough to suck on her lower lip, just enough that she had to hesitate a moment.

_Not bad_.

Quatre smiled at her mental assessment.

"We aren't going to elope before we get to your house, are we?" She joked.

"No, that's after dinner," he assured her.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Quatre thought, as they pulled up to the house.

"Oh shit. I, um, should my hair be covered?" Relena was suddenly self-conscious.

"Um, no. You look perfect. In fact, if you even dared to cover your hair my father would probably throw you out. He's about as against following _shar'ia_ as you can be."

"Oh. Okay."

Together the entered the house, with a brief pause as Quatre introduced Relena to Rashid, and then made their way to the veranda.

"Brace yourself," he whispered to her.

"For what – wow. Are those – who are all those women?"

"My sisters. This is only a third of them, too," he said with a smirk at her shocked expression.

"I thought your father didn't follow _shar'ia_," Relena whispered back as they walked closer.

"He doesn't. He's had eleven wives, all of them one at a time."

"Eleven?!" Relena pasted a polite smile on her face just in time to greet Ali.

"Ah, so this is the beautiful Relena that Quatre has told us so much about," he said, rising to his feet and greeting her.

Relena shot Quatre a look.

"I told you so," he said.

"Please, sit down and we'll spare you the endless introductions. I'm sure you will get acquainted with each of my daughters in time."

Quatre sensed the panic from Relena at _that _statement and squeezed her hand.

"Like I would _ever_ marry you," he teased.

"Like I would ever marry _you_," she returned. "I'm going to have a harem. I think your father has the right idea – one at a time, eleven total. No kids for me, though."

Quatre chuckled and held out her chair before taking his own seat between her and Iria.

He gave his sister a quick kiss on the cheek before turning to face his father.

"I'm sorry if we're late, traffic was a bit heavy," he said.

Ali nodded and waved one hand in forgiveness. And then he took a moment to look at Quatre's attire.

_Insolent little brat. Darlian's girl probably already knows he's queer._

Quatre allowed himself a grim smile of victory.

"How is work at the clinic?" He asked Iria.

"Oh, you know, busy. We try to do what we can. I run a free clinic on Tropicana," Iria explained for Relena's benefit.

"That's wonderful," Relena said. "I used to want to be a doctor and join Doctors Without Borders. But I'm too squeamish around blood."

Iria smiled.

"I always thought that Borders was a great thing, but I've also always thought that we need better healthcare at home, too. It's great to help people who are oppressed by dictatorships, but it's also important that we help our own neighbors."

Relena nodded and Quatre sensed that she was quickly starting to like Iria.

Another good sign, in his mind.

"Iria is our little humanitarian," Ali said from the head of the table. "While Alima is our corporate genius." Alima smiled at the rare praise from their father.

_I am, too. I just hope that he realizes that Quatre isn't competent enough to run this company before he dies_.

"And Quatre? Who is he?" Relena asked, smiling at him.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and a jumble of thoughts from Quatre's sisters and his father. Relena had no idea that she had glanced upon the most contentious person in the family – himself.

"He's our brother and he's a saint for putting up with all of these women," Iria came to his recue, hugging him with one arm. "But I'm sure you've already realized how wonderful he is."

"I have, actually," Relena agreed, her mind troubled.

"I read your latest article in the Rebel," Khadijah said. "I like the fact that you don't abuse your position to write puff pieces. You still maintain your focus."

Relena nodded at the praise.

"Thank you."

"What was the article about?" Ali asked.

Relena blushed and Quatre frowned, trying to remember. He had read it – he thought – but he never put much interest in the school paper.

"The rising number of on-campus incidents of abuse and harassment of female students," Khadijah said, smiling at their father's taken-aback expression. It was hardly the topic for a family dinner. Quatre grinned at his sister, and she winked back at him.

Every once in awhile the two of them aligned in their rebellion against their father.

"Well, it seems _Quatre_ has picked quite the little feminist," Alima said.

"Hm."

_Darlian didn't tell me his daughter was one of those_._ Oh god, is she a lesbian?_

Quatre choked on a laugh, earning concerned looks from Iria and Relena.

"So, what are your plans for after you graduate?" Fatima jumped in, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"How is the baby?" Quatre whispered to his sister.

"Wonderful, still making me sick."

"You do look tired." And he could sense that something was troubling her.

"Boy, you know how to compliment a woman." She sighed. "I've been staying up late researching. I had two bizarre patients come in this weekend, and I'm not sure how to help them."

"Bizarre how?" Quatre asked.

"I can't tell you that, little brother. It's private. But it's also weird. Their blood work came back clean but – oh, Alima's out for blood tonight. Save your date."

"…children?"

"Of course having a family is important, but I intend to go to graduate school first, and then be at least an editor before I even think about having children."

"And how long would that take?" Alima asked, looking smug.

"At least six, maybe ten years."

Alima shot a look at her father.

"Quatre might not have told you, but I went to Harvard for my Masters in Buisness and I had my first son while I was writing my thesis. My forth child will be born in January."

Quatre blinked at that news. He hadn't known his sister was pregnant again.

"Congratulations, Alima," he said. "You really are amazing. It's lucky Dad has such a devoted daughter, and has raised you to be such a hardworking mother."

It was exactly the praise that would allow Alima to relax, and Ali was forced to nod in acknowledgement.

The rest of the dinner passed without incident, and Quatre managed to escape his usual after-dinner conversation with his father because of Relena's presence.

They were safely in the car before they both released long sighs.

"That was awful, Quatre. I can't believe you put me through that. You owe me, big time."

He winced at the peevishness in her voice, but couldn't blame her.

"I am sorry about that. How can I make it up to you?"

Relena looked triumphant at his quick surrender.

"I'll let you know." She turned in the seat so she was facing him more and grabbed his hand. "So, what is the deal with your family politics? Does your Dad know you 'might' be gay? And what is with your sister Alima? And how are you and Iria so normal when everyone else is so crazy?"

"Relena," Quatre was embarrassed at her interest in his family.

"Quatre, I'm not going to write an article about you, that was a joke. I'm just fascinated. Please, tell me."

Quatre frowned, but, almost against his will, he started to tell her about the complicated relationships in his family. As he spoke he felt a headache start to set in.

"Wow. You've got quite the soap-opera of a home life."

"I'm sure yours is just as crazy," he replied.

He felt a wave of sadness from her.

"Not really. It's pretty boring, actually." And then the sadness was gone.

"I've got it. Two dates."

"What?"

"To make up for that really, really horrible first date. You owe me two more dates. One will probably be just as bad – you're going to join my parents and myself for my twenty-first birthday next Saturday."

Quatre winced. That was fair turnabout.

"And the other date?"

"Dinner and a movie, at a date to be named later."

The car pulled up to her house and Relena let herself out before either Quatre or the driver could even remove their seatbelts.

She grinned at him and leaned back in the open door and kissed him again.

"Thank you for the worst date I've ever had. But you do kiss good. For a gay guy."

She winked at him.

"I'm not gay," he muttered and she laughed. "Maybe, anyway."

"Goodnight!" She closed the door and Quatre leaned back in the seat, half-smiling at her teasing.

Duo levitated in mid-air, legs crossed a-la-yogi's and chanted.

* * *

His roommate, still high on meth and drunk from the record twelve-beers in an hour, thought it was hilarious.

"Dude, flip upside down again."

Duo obeyed the request and Dan started to laugh uncontrollably.

"Man, I am SOO high right now."

"Yeah, you are," Duo agreed, and then smirked as his cell-phone alarm went off. He allowed himself to drop to the ground and Dan scowled.

"Sorry, dude, I've got a meeting. Freak show hour is over."

Duo grabbed his backpack and was out of the house before Dan could formulate a coherent response.

That morning Duo had been practicing turning invisible, trying to perfect it, and also trying to float at the same time. It was tough, but he had just gotten the hang of it when Dan unexpectedly decided to wake up before noon for the first time in his life.

Dan had thought it was the coolest thing ever, and after dosing himself with his chemicals of choice, demanded that Duo show off.

Since Duo didn't have the ability to destroy the few remaining brain cells in Dan's mind, he had complied and 'performed.'

But now he could escape, and he only hoped that Dan was too high and drunk to remember this tomorrow. Even if he did, however, Duo doubted that he would be chatting with the 'crazy lady' across the way, as the cops had dubbed her when they came by the apartment yesterday and finally cornered Duo. It was lucky that Duo had been able to sell them on his 'poor lady, her husband left her and she must be taking it hard. You know, with drugs and stuff' routine. It wasn't exactly a lie, but Duo definitely wasn't going to tell the cops that 'yeah, she saw me flying, won't happen again, have a good afternoon officers. Oh, you want me to get into the squad car and go to the station? Sure thing.'

Duo snorted to himself and dodged traffic to run across Tropicana and get to Metro, where the group was meeting.

He spotted Trowa and Catherine talking outside the front door and couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Hey Cathy, how's the stripping going?"

She glared at him, shot Trowa a look, and walked inside.

Trowa shot him an amused look.

"It's our thing. She loves me and doesn't want to come clean."

Trowa nodded sagely.

"She has a habit of falling for gay guys."

"No shit, you too?"

Trowa shrugged one shoulder.

"Um, so, I had a great time Friday."

Trowa smiled slightly.

"Getting a pitcher of beer dumped on you is your idea of a great time?"

"Well, no, but watching you punch the drunk guy was pretty amusing."

Trowa shook his head.

"You're the one that challenged them to a pool game."

"Yeah, well you wanted to go to that bar in the first place."

"So it's my fault we started a bar brawl?"

"Well…." Duo grinned and Trowa shook his head.

"We should do it again, though."

"I don't want to be banned from every bar in town, Duo."

"Not THAT part."

"What, the dinner and the movie part?"

"Yeah, or the making out part after the fight part."

"That part never happened."

"Hm, maybe we should skip the fight, next time, and do that instead?"

Trowa laughed.

"Maybe."

Wufei joined them, glaring and edgy.

"Well, are we going to have this meeting or not? Or did you even bother to prepare, Maxwell?"

Duo rolled his eyes.

"What IS your problem with me? You're the asshole who set me on fire – I should be the pissy one, not you."

"You set him on fire?" Hilde joined them at the perfect moment to piss off Wufei more. His face turned red.

"I did not –"

"Yeah, you did. I have the burnt shirt to prove it."

Trowa arched an eyebrow at this news and Duo put a hand on his chest.

"Down, killer."

"What?" Trowa looked amused. "I wasn't going to punch him too. If he wants to burn your clothes, that's his choice. YOU could punch him, if you wanted to."

Unspoken went the part where Trowa clearly didn't mind if Duo had to walk around naked. Duo blushed, then immediately felt stupid.

"Today?" Catherine was back outside, looking impatient. "They've got a table ready for us. And I want some of that free pizza Duo promised."

Wufei glared at Duo one last time and went inside. Hilde rolled her eyes and followed him.

"You know, if you want to get me naked, you don't have to burn my clothes," Duo said.

"Might be more fun, though," Trowa replied.

"Trowa – does anyone else know how twisted you are?"

"I'm twisted? You're the guy who thinks bar fights are romantic."

Duo rolled his eyes.

"That was ONE time…."

* * *

TBC….


	8. Chapter 8

a/n: Sorry for the extremely long time between posting this chapter and the last. I'm in Texas on work right now, and I'm staying in a cabin in the middle of nowhere... and internet is really spotty, and I'm frankly been too lazy to write much... sorry, I suck at life. And... on that note, it might be a week or two before I get another chapter up, so, savor this one.

Anyway, a special thanks to DragonQueenSori, who agreed to be my beta. This chapter has seen the first of her efforts to make my writing better - but any spelling or grammatical mistakes you find are purely my fault for not proof reading it better.

Thanks again to all for the reviews - seriously, I love knowing what you think, even if you want to point out glaring inconsistencies or call someone a total wuss.

* * *

1.7: Next Dance

Hilde was used to having secrets. She was used to presenting a false front to people – in fact, she had so many different personalities that she sometimes mixed them up. To her parents, she was the studious, slightly nerdy daughter who was always polite. To her fellow environmental science majors she was distant and involved in research projects: she was NOT involved in protests, she was not interested in being labeled as a hippy or a troublemaker. To her roommates she was eccentric, and irritating, only because she worked late and studied hard. To her friends, she was loud, bossy, and damn fun to be around when she was drunk. To her lovers…. Well, that was her most deeply hidden secret.

It wasn't a crime to be a lesbian, and, even in Vegas, it was looked on by some as being perfectly acceptable. But Hilde had dreams of changing the world, of going in to politics eventually – and she didn't want her future jeopardized by 'mistakes' made in her youth. And flaunting her sexuality would definitely be a mistake, she believed.

Her other secrets – her shyness, her pessimism in regards to mankind, her obsession with Star Wars, and science fiction in general, her comic book collection, her love of Katherine and Audrey Hepburn – were much more tame than that one, but no less part of her. Hilde felt, and she knew it was ridiculous, that any one of these parts of her would unravel the mystery of who she was, and lead to the discovery of her sexuality.

But even that didn't compare with her new secret, this strange new ability of hers to use telekinesis. She shuddered at the thought. Wasn't it one of her fondest dreams, after all, to be a superhero or a Jedi or any other improbable hero from her childhood (and, yes, she had to admit, her adulthood)? But now that she was confronted with the alarming reality, Hilde was uneasy. This was, after all, her chance to change the world, right? Maybe?

Gloomily she took another sip of the now cold tea in front of her and looked at her watch again. It was already twenty-minutes past the meeting time she had set up with Relena, and the baristas were starting to give Hilde pointed looks, the kind that clearly said, 'we want to close thirty minutes early, so grab your stuff and GO.'

Hilde ignored the looks and propped her chin on her hands.

While the actual ability thrilled and terrified her, it was the mystery behind its sudden appearance that she really wanted to unravel. She hadn't been bitten by a radio-active spider, nor exposed to glowing green rocks, nor kidnapped by the army (or had she, and they had wiped her memory?). And she seriously doubted that her name was really Skywalker, and she was a descendent of the Jedi that had loved a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away.

So how HAD she come by these powers? Was she some mutant, and some event had recently triggered her genes to react in some new way? She frowned and wondered if she could talk one of the bio majors into looking at a blood sample – claim that she had faked something up, as a prank, and wanted to see if it would pass muster. She smirked. Maybe Sylvia would look into it for her.

Sylvia Noventa, privy to more of Hilde's secrets than most, and yet still Hilde kept her distance from the pretty blonde pre-med student. They had been set up on a date by a mutual friend in the chemistry department, but Sylvia was openly gay, and the fact that Hilde was not had upset her and ended their budding relationship before they had had much of a chance. That had been last year, and even now, on occasion, they would find themselves calling up each other or winding up in the other's bed. It wasn't exactly a healthy relationship, at least from Sylvia's point of view, but it was all that Hilde could give her.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you waited for me. I'm so, so, so sorry. The paper is a mess and the junior editors are babies who needed their diapers changed. And then I've got Mr. Henderson breathing down my neck, and students are complaining that there aren't enough editorials, and –I'm sorry. Thanks for waiting."

Hilde could only blink as she looked up at Relena. She had been so wrapped up in her thoughts of Sylvia that she hadn't even noticed the approach of THIS pretty blonde, who alternately drove Hilde insane and made her wish for things she couldn't have.

"Um, no troubles," Hilde managed, then winced at how lame she must have sounded.

But Relena smiled brightly.

"Let me grab a cup of coffee – do you want another? What did you have? Is it any good?"

"It's chai tea, but I'm –"

"Perfect. I'll be right back." And Relena was gone in a whirl of blonde and pink, marching across the coffee shop and commanding the attention of the staff and Hilde.

It wasn't that Relena was beautiful – and in Las Vegas, pretty girls were a dime a dozen – but the way she carried herself suggested that she was someone who could easily change your life, and you had BETTER be paying attention.

Hilde shook her head and forced her thoughts away from Relena as she leaned against the counter, flirting with the barista and also showing off her long, slim legs.

Lesbian superhero, that was a first, she thought. Maybe she should talk to one of the graphic arts majors and see if he wanted to make a comic of her life? She choked back a laugh.

"Okay, here we go. And, once again, I'm sorry. I hope you'll forgive me, even though it was horribly rude. I wanted to call, but I don't have your number. In fact," Relena rummaged through her purse and pulled out an iPhone. "What is your number, so that I don't stand you up again?" Relena flashed her that same million-dollar smile again, the one that she had probably used since childhood to get anything she wanted.

"Um," at that moment Hilde didn't remember her own name. _Focus you idiot_. At last she was able to give Relena her phone number, and actually recovered enough to request Relena's in return.

"So, do you actually want to work on our project or do you want to sit here and gossip about our classmates instead?"

"Um, what?"

"Seriously, our class if practically a petri-dish full of the most interesting and attractive juniors in the school, don't you think?"

"Well, I guess so."

Relena's eyes widened and then narrowed.

"You have a crush on someone, don't you?" She grinned. "C'mon, who is it?"

"No one. I just, I'm not used to gossiping."

"Tell me. Please?"

Hilde frowned, the tension from her earlier musings seeming to come back full force and her head started to throb.

"It's you."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth Hilde slapped one hand over her mouth, not caring how ridiculous she looked. What on Earth had made her say that?

Relena arched an eyebrow, not at all the reaction Hilde had been anticipating.

"Really? I – thank you."

"Thank you? Seriously, I just come out to you AND tell you that I like you, and you say thank you?"

Hilde slammed her notebook closed and shoved it in her bag. She jumped up from the table, upsetting her tea in the process, knocking it off of the table and sending it on a collision course for Relena's black leather purse. A purse that Hilde knew cost nearly seven hundred dollars, because she had been admiring it two weeks ago at Caesar's Forum.

Hilde winced and willed the cup to stop mid-air. She reached out and grabbed it, and then set it down on the table. There, now Relena knew almost all of her secrets – and certainly her most damaging.

She started to walk past her, but Relena reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Wait. We need to talk. Please."

Her head was still pounding, but Hilde reluctantly nodded. Relena stood.

"Not here, though, mind if we go for a ride?"

Hilde shrugged, her head hurting acutely and her pride badly bruised

Neither girl spoke as they climbed into Relena's mini-Cooper, and it wasn't until Relena turned onto the Strip that Hilde started to wonder where they were going. She reluctantly voiced the question.

"Well, I think we need a drink, you know? And there's a bar in the Venetian that doesn't card."

"You're not twenty-one?"

"Three more days." Relena flashed her a smile.

"Want to come to my birthday party? It's next Saturday – you can give me an answer later."

Relena ruthlessly cut through the traffic on the Strip, convincing Hilde that her decision to always walk on the Strip wasn't actually a good idea – who knew when this maniac might be driving – and by the time they pulled into a spot in the Venetian's parking garage Hilde had her eyes closed so tightly that it hurt to pry them open again at Relena's command.

"Okay, as soon as we've got martini's we'll talk – and it won't matter if anyone over hears us, they'll think we're just drunk tourists."

Relena confidently led Hilde down to the bottom level of the Venetian, through a winding maze of slot machines and card tables, to a bar across from the Blue Man Group's theatre. Hilde smiled, remembering the first time she went to see the show – with Duo Maxwell. They had both been completely high on drugs he had begged from his roommate, and it had been the most terrifying and hilarious experience of her life. Hilde had later taken Sylvia to see it, both completely sober, and had found it almost as enjoyable.

Relena requested a table in the back, and soon Hilde found herself staring at a cocktail menu with no idea of what to order.

"The Blue Martini is the best," Relena advised knowledgably.

"How long have you been coming here?" Hilde asked.

"Two years or so. I used to date a guy who worked at the show and I used to wait for him after wards, and I've always looked, well, mature, I guess, so it was never a problem."

Hilde nodded thoughtfully, and when the waiter came around she followed Relena's recommendation and ordered the Blue Martini as well.

"Okay," Relena said after taking a healthy swig of her drink," we need to talk, obviously. What you did back at the coffee shop – not the coming out part, which we'll get to later, but the part where you stopped the coffee cup mid air. What WAS that?"

Hilde shrugged self-consciously.

"I'm not sure. I – a week ago I started being able to move stuff with my mind."

"Like using the Force," Relena said, without missing a beat.

Hilde thought she would die on the spot.

"The Force?" She repeated stupidly.

Relena rolled her eyes.

"You know, like in Star Wars? The Jedi?"

"No, I know what the Force is. I just, are you a Star Wars fan?"

"Are you kidding? I dressed up as Princess Leia for every single Halloween until last year. I really wanted to dress up as Mara Jade, you know, but no one got it, so I went back to Leia."

"And last year?"

Relena smirked.

"Last year my parents were in Tokyo over Halloween and I sort of had an, um, clothing optional party."

Hilde blinked. Relena had just confessed to being a Star Wars geek and also having a nude party. It was… not what Hilde had pictured.

"Oh. Okay."

"But, back to the subject, you said this started about a week ago? I mean, how do you know? Have you tried before that?"

"Um, well," Hilde wasn't about to confess that she had spent hours every week as a teenager trying to will objects to move.

"I mean, did anything happen to you to make this come on? Have you had a reaction to anything?"

_A reaction_. That simple word made the puzzle start to fall into place for Hilde.

"The museum, that day it rained. It must be something from the museum."

"What?"

"I've been trying to figure out what happened, and you said reaction – I had this rash for two days, and I totally passed out for over twenty-four hours. All of that happened after the museum."

"Me too," Relena confessed.

Hilde gave her a sharp look.

"And can you move things with your mind?"

"Um, no."

Hilde felt a wave of disappointment. For a moment there, she had been convinced that – well, she wasn't' sure what, but something.

"But I can make people do things by saying please."

Hilde raised an eyebrow.

"Really, I've already done it to you twice tonight – when you told me that you liked me, you didn't want to, right? But I said please, and suddenly your head hurt, and you just did it. And then when I asked you to talk – same thing, right?"

Hilde nodded reluctantly.

"But, I mean, that could just be me being stupid."

Relena frowned and scanned the bar. Their waiter appeared to ask them for another round.

"Please take off your shoes," Relena told him.

Frowning, the waiter did as asked. Hilde's jaw dropped.

"Please put them back on. And yes, we would like another round."

"That's bizarre."

"You're telling me. And you think it has something to do with the museum?" Relena tapped her chin. "We've got to investigate this more. What if – what if the other students are having similar experiences?"

"What, you mean confessing their darkest secrets to each other?" Hilde asked somewhat sulkily.

Relena rolled her eyes.

"I don't see why it's such a big deal that you're a lesbian."

"Are you?"

"A lesbian? No."

"Then you wouldn't understand, you can't even begin to, so don't judge me for something that you can't even begin to sympathize with."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I – I'm sorry."

Their second round of martinis were consumed in an awkward silence, and Relena paid for the drinks over Hilde's protests.

As they left the bar Relena turned back to Hilde.

"Look, I am sorry I said that. I don't want it to come between us. We're in this together, now, so … truce?" Relena held out one hand, smiling uncertainly.

It was that completely honest, uncertain smile that did Hilde in. That and the fact that Relena hadn't said please.

"Truce," she agreed, and then grinned at Relena's firm handshake.

Relena started to giggle and Hilde choked on a laugh. A second later they were leaning on each other, laughing hysterically.

Hilde managed to pull herself together first.

"Come on, I want to show you the Star Wars slots before we go."

* * *

Heero ignored the insistent buzzing of his phone for thirty-five seconds. It was a precise measurement – ten more seconds and the call would automatically go to voicemail. His phone was set to vibrate only for his father's calls, and since Odin rarely called for anything that wasn't work related, Heero was positive that he was about to be assigned his next job.

Reluctantly he answered the phone.

"Yes sir?" There was no need for polite small talk: his father had raised him to be brutally blunt.

"You have no plans for next weekend."

It wasn't quite a question.

"No sir."

"Good. Richard Peacecraft."

Heero felt his eyes widen involuntarily. Peacecraft? Relena's father?

"Yes sir."

"Call me when you are finished."

"Yes sir."

And the line went dead.

It was a full minute before Heero put the phone back into his pocket.

His next assignment was to assassinate a classmate's father. Never mind that it was the father of a girl he barely knew, much less liked. But it was someone he KNEW. It brought to his mind that terrible lesson his father had taught him, more than ten years ago. The lesson about never getting close. He winced and forced himself to turn back to Duo, who was giving him an odd look.

They were meeting over lunch in the quad, situated halfway between Duo's classes and his own, going over their notes and their suspicions regarding their classmates.

"Was that an army recruiter?" Duo asked with a grin.

"My father," Heero answered tersely, eager to change the subject.

"Um, you two close?"

"He's my father. Can we move on?"

It wasn't a request, and Duo shrugged and picked up his notebook again.

"Well, aside from Trowa and Hilde, I don't really know Cathy and Wufei – aside from knowing that Wufei wants to burn me to a crisp and Cathy has the hots for me."

Heero rolled his eyes.

"What about Trowa and Hilde? Have you noticed anything? Have they confided anything to you?"

"Um, no, not really. I've got a date with Hilde this weekend, so I'll ask her then."

Heero arched an eyebrow at that. He hadn't thought that Duo was interested in women.

"It's not a real date," Duo explained, scratching at the back of his neck self-consciously. "It's a, it's a video game tournament."

"A what?"

"Halo, the video game? The STU has a tourney every semester, and Hil and I play team doubles, and we're pretty kick ass, and it's this weekend."

Heero found it hard to think of either Duo or Hilde as a gamer, but he shrugged at the knowledge.

"You're welcome to join us," Duo said after a moment. "I mean, you can't PLAY with us, but they have solo events, you could enter, or you could just hang out and be our cheerleader."

Heero rolled his eyes at the suggestion.

"Maybe," he allowed after a moment. "What about Trowa?"

"Tro? I don't think he's much of a gamer, but I could ask." Duo grinned at Heero's frustrated look. "But, seriously Heero, let's try to stay on topic, okay? Trowa hasn't said anything to me, and he doesn't seem to be acting out of character. Except that…. He hasn't been to the gym lately."

"And you know this how?"

Duo turned red.

"Well he usually goes to the gym on Wednesday and Friday mornings, but he's been at the coffee shop instead."

"Maybe he changed his schedule."

"Maybe. I doubt it. But he's still working out, just, I think, at home or something."

"Are you stalking him?"

"Um, no. I just… look, what do you have?"

Heero rolled his eyes at the obvious change in subject, but he let it go.

"Quatre is definitely not himself… I think he's one of our prime suspects for being affected like us. Relena is also acting strangely."

"What about Dorothy and Meilin?"

"Meilin isn't working out either – well, she isn't swimming."

"That's weird." Duo didn't bother to question how Heero had come by this information.

"Dorothy is hard to read."

"As in she's too creepy for even you to want to talk to."

Heero scowled at the truth in that statement.

"Oh, hey you two!"

Heero looked up and saw Relena approaching them. His heart plummeted.

"What's up, Relena?" Duo greeted her.

"Not much, just going to the press room. What are you guys up to?"

"Project," Duo waved his notebook and Heero wanted to kick him. Relena might be able to read her name on the page – and then they would be in trouble.

"For Zechs? Yeah, Hilde and I still haven't started on ours. Hey, you guys busy next weekend?"

"Probably not," Duo said.

"Yes," Heero said instantly.

Relena frowned slightly.

"Well, next Saturday night I'm having my birthday part – I hope you'll be able to come."

"Well…" Duo glanced over at Heero. Duo widened his eyes and motioned with his hand in a strange sort of flying message. Heero rolled his eyes.

"No, sorry."

"Oh, please?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Duo said, frowning now.

Heero felt his temples pulse but shrugged.

"No, sorry."

Relena's face fell, and Heero thought she was taking it hard that he had turned her down – and then he realized that she might have a crush on him. Why else did she look so devastated?

"Well, okay. I'll see you two later." And she walked off.

"Dude, that was cold. It's her birthday."

"We don't even know her."

"Doesn't mean we can't get to know her. And think bout it – if she invited us, she's probably going to invite the rest of our class."

"And?"

"And Relena's parties are notorious for being crazy – people are going to be drunk, and it's going to be easy to convince them to talk to us. Perfect research opportunity."

"Hn." Heero hadn't thought of that. He had only been thinking that he would have to kill her father sometime that weekend, and he didn't want to be around her.

"Dude, just, apologize to her in class tomorrow and beg her forgiveness. I can't handle them all on my own – it would look weird."

"Because me talking to people WON'T look weird."

Duo grinned.

"Well, you've definitely got a point there."

Just then another shadow loomed over them. Scowling at this second interruption, Heero looked up to see Trowa.

"Oh, hey, man. You had lunch yet?" Duo gestured to the open bag of chips, half-eaten candy bar, and bottle of soda that sat before him.

The look on Trowa's face mirrored Heero's own: it was clear that the athlete thought Duo's choice in food was disgusting.

"I'll pass. I just wanted to let you know that I'm working late tonight – but I'll be done around eleven, if you want to call." Trowa said all this without looking at Heero.

"Cool, yeah. Hey, save me a copy of the really crazy ones, okay?" Trowa rolled his eyes and walked off.

Duo watched him walk away until Heero cleared his throat. Duo looked at him guiltily.

"He takes photos at Excalibur's wedding chapel – part time job thing."

Heero found that amusing, but he continued to glare.

"And, ah, we were going to hang out later. Jeez, why do you care, anyway? Not like I'm poking my nose in with you and Quatre."

Heero blinked at the sudden non-sequiter.

"What?"

"You heard me. I'm not giving you crap about mooning over Quatre."

"Mooning?"

Duo rolled his eyes.

"Give it a rest, buddy, it's obvious you like him."

Heero scowled. There was no point denying it - but he hadn't thought he was being obvious.

"Look, you glare at everyone – even me. Especially me, maybe. But whenever he walks into class you get all… gooey. You don't glare at HIM."

"It doesn't matter who I like."

"Sure, I agree. But, if you ask me, I think you'd have a lot more fun doing more than just looking at Quatre."

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"Ask him out."

"You're insane."

Without another word Heero packed up his lunch and his books, refusing to engage in the conversation, or even the hope that he might actually act on Duo's advice.

After all, he had a research project for his global economics class; and after that he needed to plan out how to assassinate Relena's father.

* * *

Zechs glared at the students as they shuffled out of his advanced micro-biology class. It wasn't entirely their fault that he was angry – the fact that they were young and malleable wasn't something he should resent, but he did.

It had been nearly a week since he had been 'treated' and there had still been no developments, no powers, nothing.

Treize had shrugged and suggested that they hadn't gotten the dosage right – but he refused to try again. In his mind, they had had one shot at mutating Zechs' genes, and they had failed. It wasn't something that he was used to, failure, and it was hard to accept.

Even now as he packed up his bag and prepared to head across campus for Group 13, he could feel his anger and frustration simmering uncomfortably close to the surface.

The walk across campus did nothing to calm him: just knowing that he was about to walk into a room full of potential… gods was enough to anger him. These children didn't know what to do with their powers, clearly, and Romafeller's plan to observe them for three months, and then directly engage them, was too loose. Who knew what they could accomplish in three months – if Romafeller would even be capable of apprehending them after that much time had passed. Surely, the longer they lived with their abilities, the more comfortable and confident they would get. It was one thing to have Dorothy as a control subject, but it wasn't enough data, and it wasn't enough of a safeguard.

And then there was the issue of Heero Yuy, Odin's precious son and weapon. The fact that Odin had registered his son for the program had initially appalled Zechs, but after further consideration he realized that it had been a stroke of brilliance – this was the wave of the future, after all. If Odin wanted to retain an upper hand, then this was the best way for him to ensure that his company and his legacy would survive.

Not that Heero seemed to exhibit any special powers. If anything, Heero was remarkably unchanged: indolent and border line insolent. The boy was clearly brilliant, and clearly resentful of the hand he had been dealt.

Zechs paused outside of the classroom door and drew in several deep breaths, preparing his façade and calming himself. It wouldn't do to reveal himself to them just yet.

He walked in, the dreamy smile of an academic pasted on his face.

The class was only half full and there were still five minutes before they were scheduled to begin. So Zechs dug a worn binder out of his bag and walked to the back of the class to pass it back to Duo.

The braided boy looked up apprehensively as he took back his research.

"It's good work, so far. I made a few notes." As in Zechs had allowed himself the rare pleasure of intellectually pursuing Duo's line of thought and had found himself deeply engaged with the research and theories the boy had managed to assemble. "It's a great project, and if you ever want to discuss it, or any of my notes, you can stop by my office."

Duo blinked and then swallowed hard.

"Thanks, teach. I, ah, I appreciate it."

Zechs fought back a smile at the title that Duo had bestowed on him that first day of class and nodded. As he walked back to the front of the class he passed by Heero's and Quatre's table.

As he walked by he looked down at the two and caught Quatre's eye. He nodded and the blonde smiled. And then gasped in sudden pain.

Heero turned to him, concerned, but then he stiffened and rubbed at his sternum, as if in pain.

"Okay there?" Zechs asked, mildly concerned.

Quatre nodded, but looked pale. Heero merely glared.

Zechs walked back to the front of the classroom.

He kept an eye on Quatre and Heero as he began his lecture, but after twenty minutes both seemed to have completely recovered from whatever had affected them.

As they began discussing their readings Zechs looked for Dorothy, and found her sitting beside Catherine, smiling complacently. He arched an eyebrow and she answered his question with a smirk and a toss of her hair.

So she had established contact with Catherine, and there were positive results. That was good news, at least.

When the class was over he asked Dorothy to wait, and as they walked back to the science building together he quizzed her on Catherine.

"Well? What has she developed?"

"She can alter her appearance at will. And what's more – she went to the free clinic on Sunset and had blood tests run, nothing came back."

Zechs felt his blood run cold.

"She went public?"

Dorothy shrugged.

"She told the doctor."

"Who is the doctor? We've got to silence him."

"I'm not sure. What do you want me to do."

Zechs frowned, thinking frantically. All they needed was some doctor with time on his hands investigating this.

"Go to the clinic, say you're a friend of Catherine's, experiencing similar…problems. Ask for her doctor. We need to see how much he knows."

"Should I let them test me?"

"Why not? The damage has already been done. But immediately report to Treize or myself. We need to get this situation under control immediately."

"Okay. What about you?"

"What about me, Ms. Catalonia?" How had she found out?

"I mean, have you noticed any of the other students?"

"No – well, something is going on with Quatre Winner, and Heero Yuy. Add them to your list next."

Dorothy smiled.

"Relena's having a birthday party next weekend, she invited the class – it'll be the perfect time to gain some ground."

"At a party?"

"You don't understand. Relena's parties are infamous for being drunken orgies. It'll be so easy to get information out of people."

Zechs closed his eyes at THAT mental picture.

"Fine, I don't want to hear the details."

Dorothy laughed.

"Oh come on, you KNOW you imagine some of those boys naked…." She trailed off at his glare, realizing she had gone too far.

"Ms. Catalonia, I can assure you, whatever you think you know about me, you don't. Good afternoon." He set off at a more brisk pace, leaving her behind.

* * *

TBC….

Jeez, I sure make Relena sound like a pimp, don't I? I WONDER who will hook up at her party?


End file.
